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If TO 27 VANDEW/VTEf^ St 


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ighted i886 ,byQeorgeMunro— Entered at the Post Office at New Yorkatsecondclassrates— M’ch 29, 18fc 




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From- Olympus to Hades 



i. 

By MRS. FORRESTER. 




. . . . Not poppy,- not mandragora, 

Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world, 

Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep 
Which thou owd’st yesterday. 

Othello. 




NEW YORK: 

GEORGE MUNRO, PUBLISHER, 

. 17 TO 27 Vandbwatkr Street. 



MBS. FORRESTER^S WORKS 

CONTAINED IN THE SEASIDE LIBRARY (POCKET EDITION): 

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80 June 20 

Omnia Vanitas. A Tale of Society .... 10 

484 Although He Was a Lord, and Other Tales . . 10 

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724 My Lord and My Ladv 20 

726 My Hero ......... 20 

727 Fair Women 20 

729 Mignon 20 

732 From Olympus to Hades 


20 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


CHAPTER 1. 

VANITAS va:n^itatum. 

And the heart that is soonest awake to the flowers 
Is always the first to he ’touched by the thorns. 

Mooke. 

How long do we live in the world before we discover for 
ourselves that all is vanity and vexation of spirit? Hovv^ 
many years does it take us to find out that perfect happi- 
ness is a myth, and unadulterated enjoyment a Will-o^-the- 
wisp. Some naturally longer than others. I fancy, though, 
that even in our childhood, before the holland pinafore is 
banished, we have some dim overshadowing of what all too 
soon becomes a certainty, and what we yet at times try to 
persuade ourselves into disbelieving. Every soul that comes 
into the world to live, to struggle, to hope, to despair there, 
has its own separate identity. Ah! my friend, my dear 
one, however ready I may be to take your sorrows, your 
agonies, your disappointments, and bear them in my own 
heart, a stern decree prevents it. I must suffer with, not 
for you. We must buy our experience " — trite common- 
place that has so often vexed our impatient youth, and yet, 
sad truism. Those who love us would save us by their own 
heart-breakings, and in turn we would save those we love 
by ours. 

Is it for me to preach a sermon or write a novel to the 
text and motto, This, too, is vanity ”? Nay, it has been 
done too well already that any should be bold enough to 
think they can teach aught new on the subject, whereof 
every heart has its bitter cognizance— we can only add our 
tribute of acquiescence. These thoughts must come to us 
when we are smarting from the sting of unfulfilled and dis- 
appointed hopes, from loss of those we love, from treachery, 


6 FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 

from unkindness; but thank God that while we are chafing, 
suffering, despairing, there are many bright young hearts 
enjoying, anticipating, hoping, to whom Solomon is only a 
tiresome old preacher, who had worn out his own pleasures 
and wanted to spoil others^ enjoyment of them, and 
Thackeray a bitter, envious misanthrope. It wants years 
and years of sadness, too, to bring us to the profound 
admiration that I think every one must come to feel some 
day for those wonderful writers. 

There are two pretty girls sitting, or rather reclining, in 
a light boat, moored to some steps under the shade of a 
thick-leaved, graceful willow overhanging the Thames. 
Both are reading Vanity Fair,” without much enjoyment 
or appreciation. 

^^It^s too hot to read!” cries one wearily at last, throw- 
ing down her book, and I donT think it is particularly 
interesting.” 

Nor 1 ,” the other answers, looking up, unless the 
second volume is more amusing than the first. What can 
people see in it to rave about so?” 

I can not think. The characters are all vulgar or art- 
ful or stupid, and I am sure one meets enough such every 
day of one^s life. The only person I care at all for is 
George Osborne.” 

^‘^Oh! I like Kawdon Crawley; but as for that little 
wretch Becky! Doesn’t she remind you rather of the 
Slaters’ governess, Alice?” 

^^Miss French? Well, certainly she has green eyes, and 
sandy hair, and a very humble, cringing sort of manner. 
If I were Mrs. Slater I would keep her out of Harry’s way 
when he comes home. ” 

Don’t be absurd, Alice!” says her sister sharply, for 
Mr. Harry Slater is in the habit of paying her a good deal 
of attention. As if any man would look at such a fright 
if there was another woman in the place! I wish it was 
time to go,” she adds with a yawn. Do look at your 
watch again.” 

The speakers were Mary and Alice Hamilton, daughters 
of Mr. Hamilton, the head partner in an old-standing and 
wealthy firm of solicitors. They were pretty, with that 
sort of prettiness which young men of average taste and 
discernment admire very much, but which has no particu- 
lar charm for those who look through the windows of the 


PROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


7 


eyes for a soul, and value the indications of spirituality, 
deep feeling, and passion more than pretty-faced, full-fig- 
ured, amiable inanity. Still, where they lived, in the so- 
ciety in which they moved, they were belles, sought after 
for picnics and impromptu dances, and never at a loss for 
an attendant squire at a water-party or a partner at a 
ball. They lived in a handsome house, bay-windowed, and 
looking on to the wide smooth-shaven lawn, which sloped 
down to the silver Thames, and led a very pleasant, even 
kind of life, into which as yet no black- visaged grief had 
intruded, to make them think bitterly or regretfully of the 
world, or tenderly and sympathetically of the people who 
live in it. Their father and mother were indulgent, never 
refusing them any participation in gayety or pleasure; and 
their iSe would have been one of unclouded serenity but 
for occasional small jealousies, j«id the annoyance of hav- 
ing a young sister who, use what efforts they might to 
keep her back, would persist in growing taller and older, 
and must, inevitably, in a year or two, arrive at an age 
when they could no longer prevent her being invited out 
with them. The two elder girls, divided scarce by twelve 
months, were fond of each other, but had no sympathy or 
affection for the younger sister, whom they regarded as an 
interloper. She was strange, they said, and disagreeable 
and ugly. She was always poring over books, and was so 
dreadfully jealous — a perfect little fury when roused. And 
she took after their father^s family, who were all clever and 
dark and strong-minded. Mrs. Hamilton had been a Miss 
Fane, and the Fanes had golden hair and blue eyes and 
delicate complexions, of which they were very proud. The 
mother, who was quiet and lady-like, and quite the reverse 
of strong-minded, was a little ashamed of her ugly duck- 
ling, and had not the least hope of seeing her turn into a 
swan. She would say now and then a little plaintively to 
her husband : 

I can not think why Olive should be so plain, so dif- 
ferent from her sisters. No one would believe she was my 
child. 

^^Tush!^^ Mr. Hamilton would answer, impatiently; 

you seem to think, Mary, there is no beauty in the world 
unless it has fair hair and blue eyes. It is quite true I 
prefer light people myself, but there are hundreds of thou- 
sands who admire dark more. Olive has more sense in her 


8 


PROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


little finger than her sisters have in their whole bodies. 
And I am sure the child is affectionate and lovable enough. 

She is so awkward/^ Mrs. Hamilton said, complain- 
ingly. She wants to rush up and smother one with 
kisses, and then if you remonstrate with her, the tears 
come into her eyes and she goes off in a rage. 

^^Well, well, Mary,'’^ responded her husband, a little 
impatiently. I dare say you know how to manage your 
girls, but I can not think it is a good plan to check a child 
for being affectionate." 

But the Fanes are always gentle and lady-like," urged 
Mrs. Hamilton. 

Confound the Fanes!" ejaculated her lord. He was 
rather irritable, and a little sick, besides, of hearing what 
the Fanes did. * 

But to return to the two girls. Alice Hamilton took out 
her watch. 

We can^t possibly start yet, Mary. It wants ten min- 
utes to five; and we shall only have to wait in the broiling 
sun at the other end. Here comes that tiresome Olive, 
racing down the lane like a great hoyden. I wonder what 
she wants!" 

Oh, Mary," cried the new-comer in breathless haste, 
her face radiant with delight, Signor Tivoli canT come 
to give me my lesson, and mamma says I may go with you 
and Alice. " 

Indeed, then, you wonT do anything of the sort," re- 
torted Mary, sharply; whilst Alice looked up with great an- 
noyance. 

Why should I not go?" said Olive, quickly; mamma 
said I might." 

And we say you cannot," Alice answered, coolly. 

You are very unkind and selfish," retorted Olive; and 
I luill go." 

The elder ones looked at each other. It was exceedingly 
annoying. They were going to row two miles down the 
river to meet their favorite cousin, Frank Fane, and a young 
man, \ii^fidus Achates, who were coming from London by 
the train; and tlie four would have made a charming party. 
That awkward Olive, with her great eyes, would be terribly 
de trop, A glance of intelligence passed between Mary and 
Alice. 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


9 


^^Then we won^t go, and you can take our places, said 
the former, making a movement as if to get out of the boat. 

A look of passionate reproach came into Olivers eloquent 
eyes, and tears she tried hard to repress stood on their long, 
dark lashes. 

Why are you so unkind to me?^^ she exclaimed, in tones 
half indignant, half entreating. You never will let me 
go out with you; and you have so much fun whilst I am 
tied to my lessons. 

Very well,^'’ said Alice, in a hard, unkind tone, you 
can go if you choose. Of course, if you like to feel that 
every one considers you a nuisance, and you are spoiling all 
the fun, go by all means. And she drummed in the bot- 
tom of the boat with her feet. 

Olive’s mouth quivered, and she turned away and went 
into the house. 

Now I suppose she is gone off to cry,” remarked Alice.^ 
'^What an odious child she is! — always trying to make us 
uncomfortable, and feel as if we had done something wrong. ” 

^‘'Nonsense, Alice; don’t let us think any merer about 
her. We had better go at once, or she will change her 
mind, perhaps, and come, if only to spite us.” 

And the two girls settled their white flannel dresses, ad- 
justed the blue ribbons of their hats, and putting their oars 
into the rowlocks, went off gently down the stream. It was 
the most heavenly July afternoon, that made the country a 
paradise, and a lounge on the tree-girt banks of a beautiful 
river, the most exquisite enjoyment. That is, it might 
have done so to a mind tranquil or sleepy, or attuned to 
pleasant thoughts. Olive Hamilton had come out again 
now that her sisters were gone, and had thrown herself 
wearily and angrily on the soft green turf close to the river. 
A yew-hedge threw a long, slanting shade that protected 
her from the sun’s rays. A perfect stillness reigned aronnd, 
excepting for the notes of the birds, which would be blithe 
and cheerful, however much discontent and grief raged on 
the earth beneath them, and the occasional dip of oars 
into the rippling water. 

Any one desirous of introducing an object to the world, 
or society, generally takes an opportunity of doing so under 
favorable auspices, therefore I feel some doubt as to the 
wisdom of the course I am pursuing in bringing Olive Ham- 
ilton under the notice of the gentle reader at a time when 


10 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


any of the pleasant attributes her nature may have con- 
tained were most effectually veiled under a cloud of indig- 
nant bitterness. For although my story is a simple one, 
and does not desire to arrogate for itself the dignity of 
having a hero or heroine, yet by those rules of courtesy that 
entitle a lady whose life forms the subject of a book to be 
designated by the name that has been applied to women 
who have performed great feats of courage, or endurance, 
or tenderness, I am bound to give my poor, sensitive, pas- 
sionate Olive that significant title; for the story that I pro- 
pose to tell relates to her chiefly, if not entirely. Perhaps 
if some one had told her on this warm, tranquil J uly after- 
noon that one day a book would come to be written about 
her, it might have brought a smile on the face that looked 
at this moment as if it would never he acted on by a plea- 
sant thought again. 

If sensitive people have keener enjoyment than dull ones, 
they certainly possess an aptitude for suffering quite un- 
known and undreamed of by those who are sustained against 
any extravagant ebullition of joy or grief by a respectable 
and comfortable phlegm. Some natures are — ^nay, I should 
say, seem to be — made to feel acutely. When children, 
they are punished for laughing unreasonably and being 
boisterously elated, and are warned of the dismal end of 
their unnatural jubilance — prediction that rarely fails of 
speedy fulfillment. They are depressed and passionately 
grieved similarly, without adequate causes, and then older 
and wiser heads suggest a remedy that seems somewhat 
brutal and unfeeling — ^the administration of a cause (in 
plain language, something to cry for). How often in after- 
years does the remembrance of that principle come over us 
when we have been discontented when we should have been 
thankful, and a heavy trial comes to us and gives us some- 
thing to cry for! Well, then, Olive, by courtesy my hero- 
ine, was leaning her head on her hand, and looking dreamily 
away into the distance, with much such a gaze as is famil- 
iar to us from the picture of Evangeline. But Olivers hair 
and eyes were brown. Her small vexation, a little trouble 
that we older, wiser folk should laugh to scorn, had a 
world-weight of sorrow for her. The sun might shine all 
his golden delights upon the day, the birds might trill their 
sweetest music, the river might glide softly along in its 
silver coolness beneath her feet, but all the sunshine, the 


PROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


11 


music, the peace, seemed gone out of the July afternoon 
for her. She felt as if she could never be. happy again. 
No one loved her — nay, she thought they hated her, and 
she was ugly! Perhaps the last thought had even the most 
bitterness in it. She must be ugly — her sisters said she 
was; and it had never occurred to the poor child, quick- 
witted though she was in most things, that her sisters could 
have any ulterior object in trying to believe that she was so. 
It was a terrible thing to be ugly, for beauty gained love; 
and to be loved, adored, worshiped, is the day-dream of 
strong, sensitive girl-natures; just as fame, glory, and 
power enchant and stir the hearts of generous-minded boys. 
The difference of people^s tastes in beauty is a proverb, and 
I confess I am by no means disposed to concur in the judg- 
ment of Olivers mother and sisters with regard to her per- 
sonal appearance. She had been very pretty as a child, 
but then the mere childish prettiness (which is generally 
rather the effect of roundness and bright color than regu- 
larity of feature) had left her, and at fourteen her face had 
become thin, her eyes looked preternaturally large, the nose 
seemed long, and the mouth wide. But those who lived in 
the house with her day after day failed to observe the great 
change three years had worked in her. A judge of char- 
acter could scarcely have looked into the depth of those 
brown eyes and failed to read the strong, sensitive nature 
that gave them their quick, changeful expression. There 
might be indications of caprice, of waywardness, of petur 
lance, but there was an infinite capacity and desire for lov- 
ing and being loved. The brown hair was tossed off her 
low forehead and gathered into a knot behind, with a dis- 
order which constantly called forth the remonstrances of 
her mother, and the sneers of her sister. Her muslin dress, 
Avhich an hour ago had been fresh, was sadly crumpled by 
the angry vehemence with which she had thrown herself on 
the grass, and the green moss had soiled it. The stains and 
creases caught her eye as she rose to a sitting posture, and 
she made an impatient effort to rub them out with her 
handkerchief. The remedy was worse than the disease, 
and tears of vexation came into her eyes. The fates seemed 
obstinately set against her; the soiled dress, for which, in 
anticipation, she already heard a sharp reproof, was the 
climax of the afternoon^s misfortunes. It did not occur to 
her that she had been careless — only that she was desper- 


12 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


ately unlucky. But this temporary regret was speedily 
swallowed up by the primary and greater one. 

^^How unkind they are to me!'’° she thought, bitterly, 

when I have hardly any holidays, and they are always en- 
joying themselves. And I would not have interfered with 
them — I would have sat in the end of the boat, and not 
heard a word they said. I wonder, if I were fair and pretty, 
like them, if they would take me out? Perhaps they are 
ashamed of me, because I am so ugly and awkward!” 
and that thought — ^the most bitter of any — called forth 
fresh tears. 

Poor Olive had a painful impression of her own awkward- 
ness, which was carefully fostered by her sisters, who could 
see nothing elegant, nothing to admire in the half -wild, 
natural grace, that prompted the girPs sometime indolent, 
sometime impulsive movements. 

Perhaps,” proceeded her thoughts — perhaps it is a 
punishment on me for not being very sorry when I heard 
poor Signor Tivoli had the toothache, and could not come. 
It was very selfish of me to feel glad I had a holiday, in- 
stead of being sorry that he was suffering.” Sensitive 
minds have often very firm faith in the doctrine of causes and 
effects. When Mary comes home I shall ask her to let 
me take him the chloroform bottle that Mr. Wells gave her. 
I wish I could go at once, only I dareiiT take it without 
asking her. How lovely it must be on the river, and how 
terribly dull it is here! What shall I do all the time 
until they come back?” and she looked very wistfully at 
the water. 

There was a soft plash of oars, that seemed to com© 
faintly toward her from the distance, and then pause, as. 
though the rower had rested from his labors, and was let- 
ting the boat glide down the stream, impelled by the gentle 
current. Olive watched until it should come into sight, 
leaning forward with a somewhat listless gaze. Presently 
the sharp, straight line of an outrigger came in view; and 
then with two strokes of the scull, the rower brought it to 
the steps of the bank by which Olive was sitting. He jumped 
up and put one foot on the steps, taking off his blue flannel 
cap as he did so. 

, Miss Napier, I presume?” he said, interrogatively, 
with an air of easy deference, that filled the girl with ad- 
miration. 


PROM OLYMPUS TO HAULS. 


13 


This tall, distinguished -looking young man, with the fair 
hair and handsome face, was certainly not any one she had 
seen before — he had made a mistake, too, in taking then- 
house for the Napiers^ She blushed vividly, and answer- 
ed him with some constraint and shyness. 

My name is Hamilton. Mrs. Napier lives about a 
quarter of a mile further down — ^the fourth house after 
this.^" 

I beg your pardon for my involuntary intrusion, he 
said, and yet lingered for a moment as if he had found some 
attraction in the shy glance of the contemned brown eyes. 

You accept my apology, I trust he said, again, while 
Olive was debating what answer to make. 

Oh, yes,"’"' she responded eagerly, with increased confu- 
sion. 

"With one more look into her deep eyes, he raised his cap, 
and turning stepped into the tiny craft. 

She bent her head and turned aside; but when she 
thought he could no longer see her, she came back and 
watched him stealthily. Then she sat down again on the 
bank from which she had hastily risen when he landed, 
and somehow, as if the wand of a bright fairy had touched 
her, she was now gladly conscious of the brightness of the 
summer day, of the beauty of the tranquil scene, and the 
blithe carol of the birds. She had forgotten that the Fates 
were unpropitious, that her sisters had been unkind, and 
that she had soiled and tumbled her clean muslin dress, and 
the face that but a few short minutes ago looked as if it 
could never be happy again, wore a bright, glad smile. 


CHAPTER 11. 

C I H D E R E L L A. 

Reproach is infinite and knows no end. 

The Hiad. 

The long weary minutes fled swiftly enough now, and 
the shaded garden, with the river gliding past its banks, 
might have been a bower in Arcadia. Surely if Olivers 
grief had been inappropriate and excessive, her bright 
gladness was tenfold more unreasonable. 

After all, what had happened? By the j-esult of a mis- 


14 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


take, a good-looking young stranger had spoken, one 
could hardly say exchanged, three sentences with her. 
And it was improbable that she would ever see him 
or say a word to him again. Ah! fair reader, you who 
have so many lovers that they positively weary you, you to 
whom the keen glances of admiration are but a due hom- 
age and a daily tribute, how shall I make you understand 
the sweet incense that lingering look from a handsome man 
was to the poor brown-eyed little girl, taught to consider 
herself so plain and awkward, and all unused to the sub- 
tile flattery of eyes? He had thought she was Miss Napier, 
too, and Miss Napier was called handsome. Of course, if 
Mary or Alice had been there, he would not have 
looked at her; but they were not, and oh, how glad she was 
they had been unkind, and refused to take her in the boat! 
Nothing could rob her of that sweet memory now, or efface 
the recollection of that one ardent look. 

It was almost with regret that she heard the plash of the 
returning oars, and the gay laughter of her cousin Frank. 
But she was fond of Frank — he always took her part. 

Hollo, Olive!” he cried, springing out on the landing- 
steps, and giving her a hearty kiss, ‘^how is it you didn’t 
come in the boat?” 

Oh! there was no room. ” She was not bitter or resent- 
ful now, and had no desire to make him understand that 
her pleasure had been spoiled by her sisters’ selfishness, as 
she would perhaps have done an hour ago. 

Not room? Humbug! Who said so?” cried Frank, in 
his strong, hearty tones; and then he put the girl back a 
little from him, and looked into her face with his laughing 
blue eyes. I declare, Ohve, you are getting downright 
pretty. You’ll be the beauty of the family yet!” 

How ridiculous you are, Frank!” cried Alice, sharply. 

You know she will never be good-looking all her life. I 
call it quite unkind of you to tell her such stories. ” 

But I mean it,” exclaimed Frank, sturdily. Never 
you mind what your sisters say, Olive; I believe you’ll grow 
quite pretty. And you know, dear, we fair fellows like big 
brown eyes. Don’t we, Stuart?” 

This very downright appeal placed Mr. Stuart in rather 
a delicate position. He was just at present a very devoted 
admirer of Miss Alice Hamilton, and ready to indorse any 
and every opinion of liis fair inamorata j but it was nev- 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


15 


ertheless true, discreditable to his taste though he might 
now regard it, that he had been used to uphold the charms 
of dark divinities, and that Frank Fane knew it. He 
might even blurt it out in his blunt way, unless he, Stuart, 
temporized the matter. 

De gustibus non est disputandum,’^ he said rather 
pompously, at the same time reddening a little. 

Bravo, Algy!” roared Frank. ^^That means he ad- 
mires you more than any one else in the world. Ally. And 
to think all the time IVe been forgetting the news!” he 
broke off suddenly. 

News, Frank, what news?” asked Mary. 

^^It^s awfully against Algy^s interest and mine to tell 
you,” responded Frank, with provoking quiet, ^‘^so perhaps 
after all IM better keep it to myself a little longer. ” 

What is it, Frank? Ho tell us!” exclaimed Olive, 
leaning over her cousin^s shoulder, as he knelt on the bank 
to secure the boat^s moorings. 

I don^’t suppose it^s anything that will concern you,” 
said Alice, coldly, vexed at what she chose to consider her 
sister^s forwardness. 

Oh, yes, it does,” cried Frank, rising — “ at least as 
much as it does any of you. There^s a tremendous star 
coming, or come, into the neighborhood to-day. James 
Hutton told me all about him in the train to-night.^' 

Coming to live?” cried Mary and Alice simultaneously. 

^‘‘No, coming on a visit to the Napiers. Hollo, Olive! 
what^s the matter with you?” 

Of course every one looked at her, and the general gaze 
sent the crimson confusion further and deeper still over the 
girFs neck and brow. 

The elder sisters exchanged glances of mingled contempt 
and astonishment. 

Nothing, Franky. Go on,” returned Olive, plead- 
ingly. 

^^Well!” proceeded her cousin. He^s a tremendous 
swell for this place. Fancy! — ^yomig, rich, and a baronet.” 

^^Oh, Frank, a baronet!” 

Yes, my dear, a real, live baronet.” 

And what is his name?” 

Eeally, Olive, I donT quite see why you should ask so 
many questions,” interrupted Mary Hamilton, severely. 

It can not matter to you.” 


16 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


It does matter/^ retorted Olive, sharply. Go on, 
Frank, there^’s a dear! What is his name!^-’ 

^^Sir George Fabian.” 

Sir George Fabian!” Olive reiterated under her breath. 

There seemed more music to her in the name than in 
those of all the heathen gods put together. 

He and Jack Napier were chums at Eton and Oxford,” 
pursued loquacious Frank, and theyVe asked him here 
dozens of times before. He^d be a stunning match for 
Flora Napier — ^wouldn't he, Mary?” 

He would not have her, not likely,” exclaimed Mary. 

dare say theyJl try to catch him, though. Is he good- 
looking, Frank?” 

A perfect Adonis, I believe, and precious conceited, no 
doubt.” 

^‘1 am sure lien’s not conceited!” interrupted Olive, 
quickly, and then blushed scarlet again. 

I suppose you think baronets are above such little weak- 
nesses — eh, miss?” asked Frank, turning upon her. 

^^Oh, no, Frank, I did not mean that. I mean he did 
not look conceited. ” 

Have you seen him?” cried her sisters in a breath. 

Yes, and spoken to him,” returned Olive, with a good 
deal of triumph and importance. 

And she proceeded to tell how he had landed on the bank, 
and mistaken her for Miss Napier. The recital shot pangs 
of terrible remorse and envy through the fair breasts of her 
sisters. They were amply punished for their selfishness by 
the discovery that Olive had not only seen but spoken to 
this handsome baronet — an honor for which they would 
willingly have sacrificed half a dozen afternoon rows with 
their cousin and Mr. Algernon Stuart. 

He must have conceived a very odd notion of Miss 
Napier,^ ^ said Mary, ungraciously. It was a pity you 
were looking such a figure, with your untidy hair and 
crumpled stained dress. I don't know what on earth he 
could have thought of you!” 

This remark had somewhat of its intended effect on 
Olive, in causing bitterness in her mind; but it was not 
altogether successful in persuading her that she had inspired 
feelings of contem ^ ^ ^ Frank had said 



she was growing 


more than ever 


for that speech. At this moment Mrs, Hamilton's voice 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


17 


was heard calling from the bay-windowed drawing-room. 

It is time yon began to dress for dinner and then she 
stepped out on the lawn, kissed her good-looking nephew, 
who ran to meet her, and gave a very gracious welcome to 
his friend. Then her regard fell on the disordered brown 
hair and stained frock of her ugly duckling. 

Blonde, precise women, with well-regulated minds and 
scrupulous ideas of neatness, to whom a strong, passionate 
na,ture conveys the notion of mental depravity, and lax 
views of order a want of moral tone— think what a thorn 
in the flesh Olive must have been to her mother! I dare 
say in her heart there was some love for her youngest child, 
but it rarely penetrated through the upper crust of annoy- 
ance and irritation that the girTs diversity from herself and 
her elder daughters had formed. Even the qualities they 
allowed she possessed were made a reproach to her. She 
was like her father, certainly; but then what was admirable 
in a man was displeasing and distasteful in a young girl. 
They gave a contemptuous admission that she Avas clever — 
that seemed poor praise in their eyes; indeed, they used it 
often to sting and wound her. It is unfeminine," they 
said. Unfeminine!— how that word rankled in Olive’s 
heart. It meant unwomanly, and she had read — ^nay, she 
knew instinctively, that was something men abhorred. So 
she wept secret tears over it, and hated her knowledge, and 
wished she could forget it. A month before she had been 
glad and proud of it, and longed to increase her store, be- 
cause some one had told her that knoAvledge was power. 
She was so apt to be influenced by those around her, and 
so foolishly ready to depreciate herself, that any^one who 
wished to humiliate and pain her had but too easy a task. 
Her sisters, from long practice, were very skillful in play- 
ing on the sensibilities of poor little Cinderella, and often 
caused her many bitter tears in secret. Sometimes it Avas 
a quotation from a book, to show the universal detestation 
in w'hich clever, strong-minded women were held; and be- 
cause they told her she was strong-minded, the child believed 
them; not pausing to reflect that her easy credulity was 
scarcely a proof of that animadverted quality, strength of 
mind! Ah! Avhat bitter feelings the smallest of us has 
power to raise; and how remorselessly we use our poAver! 

And, ah! what a digression I have been betrayed into— I 
who have so often laughed at and contemned that besetting 


18 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES, 


foible of story-tellers! Oh digression, thou art a noxious 
weed, and yet thou art as fair and dear to the writer as that 
which for a flower a child hath planted in his garden, which, 
though the sage ones declare to him to be ill-grown and 
hurtful, he can not bring his heart to uproot! 

Olive !^^ said her mother, in a tone which had as much 
of querulous irritation as was possible to a woman who 
made it a rule never to forget her lady-like composure, I 
wonder you are not ashamed for any one to see you looking 
such a terrible flgure. Pray go to your room and let Greet 
smooth your hair. 

Olive obeyed quietly. Nurse Greet was her best friend, 
and had a very warm affection for the nursling whom she 
vindicated and excused upon every occasion. Perhaps there 
had been some faultiness and lack of refinement in Sarah 
Greet^s education; but then we know refinement tends to 
chill and dull strong feeling, and this old nurse had such a 
warm heart. Olive was her pet because the girl loved her 
honestly in return, and wrote her letters, and confided to 
her all her troubles. There was another reason too. Nurse 
Greet had that sentiment which is a very noble one, al- 
though it may be shared by many a person of mean degree 
— the prompting sense of siding with the weak. She was 
shrewd enough to see the sharp dislike and fear the elder 
sisters had for the youngest, and that they were really un- 
kind and unjust to Olive. 

^^Lawk!^^ she would exclaim at times, moved to angry 
speech, ^‘^but they do for all the world remind me of the 
child’s story o’ Cinderella, only that they were the step- 
mother and sisters as ill-treated her, and these is own flesh 
and blood to the poor child. I call it downright minat’ral 
for a mother to ac’ so to her own, and she so like her pa, 
too. Of course Miss Mary and Miss Alice don’t surprise 
me; they’re frightened out of their lives Miss Olive ’ull get 
pretty an’ take the wind out of their sails. They’ve got 
their light complexions, an’ their flaxy hair, as it seem to 
be such a rage nowadays; but well 1 mind the time, and it’s 
not so long back, neither, that all the lassies was a-smooth- 
in’ an’ plasterin’ their hair with grease, an’ couldn’t get it 
dark enough, an’ may be it mil change again, in Miss 
Olive’s time too. An’ if not, there’s many a gentleman as 
wouldn’t give an eye to your fair ones, if so be there was a 
dark one beside ’em.” 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


19 


responded tlie lady^s-maid, dubiously^ for she 
was light-haired, and had no interest in Olive. No one 
will ever make much out of Miss Olive. Not but what I 
dare say she might have the making of something in her if 
sheM take any pains with herself, but no good ever comes 
of young ladies who don"’! care about looking in the glass, 
and would as soon be ‘seen with an untidy head and a rum- 
pled dress as not." 

^^Oh! shell get out of that when she grows a bit older. 
An^ I believe it^s nothing but mistress and the young ladies 
tellin^ of her as she^s so ugly an^ so awkward as puts the 
child out o'’ heart with herself. Why, ^twas only the day 
before yesterday, as I was ^monstratin^ with her about 
goin^ such a figure, an'’ she burst out an'’ says: ^ 0, Greet, 
whereas the good o^ my tryin^ to look nice. l'’m ugly, an^ 
no one cares to look at me, an^ they’re so pretty.'” But 
you mark my words, Hannah, the first time that child 
sees any one take notice, or seem to care for her, she’ll be 
different from that day.’’ 

Nobody’ll look at her when her sisters are by, that’s 
certain,’’ said Hannah, emphatically. 

An’ why, pray?’’ fired up Nurse Greet. I wouldn’t 
say that at all. Everybody isn’t o’ the same mind. Why, 
’tis but a month ago young Jem Benbow, the carpenter, 
came to hang the pictures as master had taken o’ the 
young ladies, an’ I stood by to see he did ’em right. ^ Well,’ 
says I, ^ an’ which do you think the prettiest?’ ^ Which?’ 
says he; an’ without stopping a minute, he claps his hand 
on Miss Olive. ^ Why, this, to be sure.’ ^ No,’ says I, do 
you, though?’ ^ Ay,’ says he, ^that I do!’ ^And why?’ I 
says. ^Well,’ he says, after waitin’ a little, like the 
eyes. There’s something noble in ’em. ’Pears to me as 
tho’ you saw the heart speaking thro’ ’em, an’ I’d lay my 
life ’twas a honest one.”’ 

Hannah gave a little contemptuous snort. 

Jem Benbow!’’ she said; he’s, a fine judge o’ beauty.’’ 

Well,’’ retorted Nurse Greet, testily, I dare say you 
would’t mind him being a judge o’ yours— he’s gettin’ on 
rarely in his business, an’ as steady as steady.’’ 

Greet!’’ cried Olive’s fresh young voice at the top of 
the stairs. 

‘^Yes, my dear — cornin’, cornin’,’’ and Greet mounted 
the steps with an activity many a younger woman might 


20 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


have envied. But her face became exceedingly rueful as 
she caught sight of the moss-stains and creases on the 
muslin dress which three hours ago had lain so fresh and 
spotless on the little bed. ^‘^Now, Miss Olive, that^s very 
naughty and careless of you, I do say,^^ she began; an^ 
^tisn^’t often I scold you, neither. 

So it is. Greet, cried impulsive Olive, putting her 
arms around the old woman^s neck. 1^11 never do it any 
more — I am going to turn over a new leaf — I am indeed. 
And now be quick and get me out a clean dress, and see if 
you can^t make me look pretty.’’^ 

And she flung herself down on a chair before the glass 
and commenced brushing her hair with unwonted vigor. ” 
Lawk, bless the child, why, what’s come to her?” 
ejaculated Nurse Greet, staring open-mouthed. Now, Miss 
Olive, do just wait till I get you your dressing-gown — combin’ 
your hair out all over your dress — ’tis so untidy. ” 

I’m not going to be untidy any more,” nurse, said the 
child, humbly, waiting for the print wrapper. 

^^Hump!” responded Greet. should think there’s 
many a good intention o’ yours gone to pave a place as 
’tisn’t proper to name, my dear,” and she smiled grimly. 

‘‘ I mean it,” said Olive, emphatically, and with some 
dignity. 

Well, my dear, then that’s good news for me, if you 
keep it. So much the less rumpled frocks ’ull go to make 
my back ache over the ironin’-board, an’ so many the less 
gathers shall I have to stitch in o’ the day. ” 

Greet,” said the girl, appealingly, isn’t there a pret- 
tier way I could have my hair done?” 

‘"W^ell, I never!” exclaimed the nurse; ^^is it Master 
Frank, or the young gentleman with him, as you’ve fell in 
love with?” 

Neither,” returned Olive, pettishly. Wliy shouldn’t 
I want to look nice as well as anybody else, without being 
suspected of something direct?” 

My dear,” remarked Greet, patiently, ’tis no blame 
to you if you do; only ’tis so new to hear you say such 
things — it makes me wonder a bit.” And she took the 
brush from the drooping hand, and began to smooth the 
long, waving locks. It couldn’t be prettier than in a 
nice coil to lie round the back o’ your head, dear, because 
’tis small an’ a nice shape.” 


S’KOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


n 

Under this advice, Olive sat patiently for fifteen min- 
utes, while her old nurse made two broad, thick plaits, 
wondering all the while, and looking askance at her fa- 
vorite. 

Now, nurse, my white muslin.'’^ 

My dear, what will your ma say?^^ 

Oh, mamma won^t mind. Do give it me out, that^s a 
(dear old thing. 

Well, Miss Olive, if your ma blames me— 

Oh ! Ill take all the blame. Be quick, there^s only five 
minutes." And in another moment it was flung over her 
head, and she was searching in the mahogany chest of 
drawers. 

Oh, my dear, how you are pulling all the things over, 
an^ ^tis only this morning I put "’em tidy, after youM rum- 
maged ^em all over for a handkerchief!" cried Greet, testily. 
And Miss Olive desisted, having found what she sought. 

Now, nurse," she said, coaxingly, do run into the back 
garden and pick me two bits of scarlet geranium," and the 
old woman hastened off obediently, wondering more and 
more. 

Olive fastened a band of black velvet about her lithe 
waist and another piece aroimd her throat, and when Greet 
returned, she placed one of the flowers in her hair, the other 
in her bosom. 

^^Well, nurse!" she said, when her toilet was finished, 

how do I look?" 

The old woman replied by a glance of loving admiration. 

"^^My dear, I didn't, think you could ha' looked so 
pretty?" 

The dinner-bell rang, and Olive walked demurely down- 
stairs. They were just going in to dinner. Her mother 
stared with astonishment, her sisters with anger, and her 
father with a look of unutterable kindness and satisfaction. 

""What! my little Olive .^" he said, "" wonders will never 
cease!" 


22 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


CHAPTEE III. 

A DIVIHITY FROM OLYMPUS. 

As the rose by the fountain flings down on the wave 
Its blushes, forgetting its glass is its grave, 

So the heart sheds its color cn life’s early hour. 

But the heart has its fading as well as the flower. 

Letitia Elizabeth Landon. 

BELIEVE iPs all the baronet," cried Frank, to Olivers 
unutterable confusion and sense of guilt. 

Baronet!" said Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton, simultaneously. 

Yes," responded Frank. Haven^’t you heard? Olivers 
been entertaining a baronet unawares this afternoon. " 

Nonsense, Frank!" said Mr. Hamilton, with an incredu- 
lous smile. 

True as gospel, sir, I assure you. IsnT it, Olive?" 

Yes, papa, but I only — that is he only — " 

Only what, my dear?" 

Ob, it was all through a mistake, papa." 

Ho, Olive, be a little more explicit," Joined in her 
mother. What does Frank mean?" 

Then Olive, with some shyness and importance, again 
related the adventure, Frank interrupting occasionally with 
explanatory notes. Mr. Hamilton smiled during the nar- 
ration, but when it was ended he remarked: 

I canT see that the evidence goes to prove your friend 
was the baronet, though, my dear. " 

Oh, papa, not?" and Olivers face fell visibly. 
donT understand, sir," said Frank. 

Well, you see, my hoy, I^m a lawyer, and I must have 
the identity proved a little more clearly first. To begin 
with, the probability is that Napier would have accom- 
panied such an important acquaintance on a first visit to 
his mother^s house. Secondly, if he is a stranger in these 
parts, where should he get the outrigger, and what place 
did he start from? I should think it much more probable 
that young Napier had asked one or two men to meet the 
baronet, and most likely this young man was one of his new 
friends from the Eowing Club." 

Ah, I never thought of that," said Frank. 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 33 

remarked Mary Hamilton, ‘‘1 thought Olive 
knew for certain it was the baronet, from what she said. " 

^^Well, never mind,” replied her father. ‘^^If she did 
think so, there was some reason for it. By the way, how 
was it she did not go in the boat with you?” 

The elder sisters exchanged glances. They were a little 
afraid of their father. It was Olivers turn now, if she had 
chosen to be spiteful. 

Mary,” she exclaimed, I am so sorry I forgot. I 
meant to ask you before. Poor Signor Tivoli is suffering 
dreadfully from the toothache. Might I take him your 
chloroform?” 

Oh, yes,” said Mary, delighted at the subject being 
changed. At least you can put some into another bottle 
and take him. ” 

When dinner was over Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton retired to 
their arm-chair for the accustomed post-prandial nap; 
Mary, Alice, and the young gentlemen sought the cool of 
the garden, and Olive went on her errand of mercy. 

She was rather fond of walking out alone; her active 
imagination was a most congenial companion. Perhaps 
some of us can still remember the bright, joyous anticipa- 
tions, the ardent longings that have chased each other 
through our hearts, then young and fresh, during a solitary 
ramble along a country road. 

To-night all Olivers meditations turned upon the events 
of the afternoon. Her impulsive changefulness had at 
once led her to coincide with her father^s opinion, and to 
decide that the stranger of the afternoon was not the 
baronet. There was a certam sense of disappointment in 
the admission; it would have been pleasant to remember 
the slight interchange of courtesy with a man of that rank, 
even if they never met again. She had heard her father 
mention men of title with whom he was acquainted — ^indeed 
they had annual presents of game from an earl and a mar- 
quis; but then that was all in the way of business. Per- 
sonally, the Hamilton family knew no one distinguished by 
a title except that vulgar old Sir Andrew MacGollop, and 
he was only a knight. 

Still baronet, or no baronet, the man with whom she had 
spoken was most undoubtedly very superior to the young 
men she was in the habit of seeing, and handsome. Hand- 
some? Yes, handsome as beautiful, evil-hearted Paris, 


24 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


whom Mr. Tennyson speaks of in that lovely poem of his. 
But this man was not evil-hearted. How could he he^ with 
that frank, manly expression shining from his blue eyes? 
He did not look like a man who would love one woman, 
and then break his word and a trusting heart for the mere 
alluring promise of a fairer love. Strange thoughts for a 
young girl, but natural, nevertheless. Perhaps there is 
more of passionate sentiment in the hearts of those we are 
accustomed to consider as mere children than ever crop up 
again in our experience-hardened hearts. And then she 
came to the little cottage lodgings where her singing-master 
lived. 

Is Signor Tivoli in?^^ Olive asked the slipshod girl who 
appeared in answer to her summons. 

Yes, the singer'^s in,^’ she replied, doubtless mistaking the 
foreign appellative for an indicative term of his profession, 
but he canT see no one. He ainT well.^^ 

^^But I particularly want to see him,^-’ urged Olive. 

You canT though, I don^t think. He^s got the tooth- 
ache bad. 

But I'^ve brought him something to do it good. Please 
tell him so.” 

OanT I give it him?” 

Ho; I couldnT leave it. I must see him.” 

Well, I can tell him. What name shall I say?” 

Olive Hamilton;” and Olive waited while the servant 
opened a little door at the back and shouted to the singer ” 
that ^^Holiv Amilton wanted perticler to see him.” 

The poor little man rushed out instantly, frantic at the 
terrible discourtesy, and looking such a droll object with 
his face tied up, that if Olivers pitiful heart had not been 
stronger than her sense of the ridiculous, she would have 
laughed outright. 

He poured out a stream of apologies and regrets, that the 
girl had some ado to stop. 

I ought to beg your pardon for coming,” she said; but 
we heard you had the toothache, and a doctor gave my sister 
a wonderful remedy for it. I could not leave the bottle 
with the servant, because chloroform is rather dangerous, 
but I thought if I could just explain it to you.” 

Signor Tivoli was profuse in his thanks. Her distin- 
guished consideration was that of an angel. He had had* a 
day, jand, ah! a pight, of horror — of torment, worse than 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADFS. 


25 


any pictured in the Inferno of Dante; but from that moment 
he. should be well — Mademoiselle's remedy would cure him, 
or if not, the recollection of her goodness, of her benevo- 
lent consideration, would console his suffering. 

Then Olive, after many directions and cautions, gave him 
the little bottle, and bade him good-bye with a very sincere 
wish that he might be eased of his pain. Wending her way 
homeward, she wondered profoundly what there could be' 
left in life worth having for a poor plain elderly man in a 
foreign country and without friends. He could not hope 
for love, or fame, or enjoyment, or riches now. Ah! what 
a terrible thing it was to be old. Poor child ! she could not 
tell that there was more suffering to be crowded into her 
next few years than had been in all the poor old Italian^’s 
dreary life. And well for her she could not. Suffering is 
hard enough to bear when it comes. Why should we add 
to it the terrors of anticipation? 

When Olive entered the garden on her return it was twi- 
light — her sisters and the young men were still there, 
enjoying the cool summer evening. The young ladies 
reclined on low garden seats; and their companions lay 
comfortably and lazily at their feet smoking. The young 
sister looked at them from a distance a little wistfully, and 
then turned away to the house. 

I should like to join them/^ she thought, ‘^^but I sup- 
pose I should spoil all their enjoyment if I did. I wonder 
how it happens that I always make the odd one. ” 

Then she went into the drawing-room, where Mr. and 
Mrs. Hamilton were justrousing themselves from their nap. 
The urn was hissing on the table. 

Make the tea, Olive, said her father. 

Where is Mary?^^ interposed her mother. You had 
better call her.'’^ 

^^.Oh, mamma, I am sure I could make it.^^ 

Ho doubt, my dear, and spoil the table-cloth and scald 
your fingers, and forget the sugar," responded Mrs. Hamil- 
ton, with gentle sarcasm. 

Well, Mary, let her try," urged Mr. Hamilton. 

Oh, certainly, if you are so anxious." 

How, Olive," said her father, make the tea, and see 
how well you can acquit yourself. " 

The girl commenced feeling as awkward as if she had 
been called upon to perform a solo on the piano before a 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


large audience of severe critics. She fancied she could hear 
her mother^s lips already taking the shape, I told you so,^^ 
in anticipation of some mishap. So she used the most 
elaborate care and pains, and exercised as much reflection 
and mental labor on the size of the lumps of sugar and 
quantity of milk administered to her father^s tea, as would 
have gone a long way toward the solution of a difficult prob- 
lem. But then she had the intense satisfaction of hearing him 
bestow unqualifled praise upon the result of her labors. 

Mamma, may I make you some?^^ she said eagerly. 

No, thank you, my dear,” was the rejoinder. I will 
wait until Mary comes in. ” 

Mr. Hamilton looked up quickly. 

That is very ungracious of you, mamma,” he said, with 
some sharpness in his voice. 

Ungracious?” repeats his wife, raising her eyebrows in 
gentle surprise. ^^ How ungracious, John?” 

The child has taken great pains to do everything prop- 
erly, ” said Mr. Hamilton. 

You quite mistake, dear,” answered the placid wife. 

I preferred waiting a little for my tea, and it is early yet. 
But since you wish it, give me some at once, Olive.” 

Mr Hamilton said no more, but walked out of the win- 
dow on to the lawn. 

^^Come in, young people,” he cried. ^^Tea is ready; 
and we want some music. 

The young people, albeit with some reluctance, rose from 
their pleasant rest in the sweet summer twilight, and came 
in at the low, broad windows. Mary looked a little indig- 
nant on perceiving that her office of tea-maker had been 
temporarily usurped, but she said nothing. It was very 
rarely that any member of Mr. Hamilton's family betrayed 
temper in his presence. 

When tea was finished, the request for music was reiter- 


TT iiCJ-i uca wao jJLiiiOiicu., tiio 

ated. The elder sisters played th( 



le overture 


with more execution than taste; and then Frank Fane 
favored the company with a comic song. Mr. Stuart, be- 
ing called upon, sung, “ When other lips,” to Aliceas ac- 
companiment, with great feeling, but slightly out of tune. 

Now, Olive,” said Mr. Hamilton, a little impatiently. 
And Olive, obedient, sat down to the piano and sung two 
gr three simple songs very sweetly and touchingly, while 
her father closed his eyes and leaned back listening. In 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


27 


the lawyer’s world-worn heart there was still a deep vein of 
feeling that, long years as she had lived with him, his wife 
had never known or dreamed of. 

The evening came to an end. Mrs. Hamilton and her 
daughters retired for the night, and Mr. Hamilton stayed 
behind to have a cigar with the young men. 

Good-night, Franky,” said the girls, and kissed him. 

Good-night,” responded their cousin, heartily. 
expect you will all be dreaming of the baronet; but I dare 
say all your difficulties will be solved to-morrow. The 
Napiers are sure to air their swell acquaintance in church. 
And your pew is nearly even with theirs, isn’t it?” 

Just behind, on the other side of the aisle,” answered 
Alice. Good-night again, Frank.” 

Olive would very much have liked her cousin’s words to 
be realized — it would be very pleasant to live over again, 
if only, in a dream, that short delightful scene of the after- 
noon; but it was not to be; and the fancied adventures of 
the night consisted chiefly in being too late for the train, 
and unable to find the necessary articles of dress to make 
her presentable for her intended journey. But the morn- 
ing came — a lovely, bright July day — and all the Hamil- 
ton family prepared for church. Olive tied on her bonnet 
and adjusted her muslin scarf with less negligence than 
usual. As they entered the church, the organ began to 
play, and the clergyman walked out of the vestry. Olive 
and her sisters looked toward the opposite pew, but it was 
empty at present. A vague, uncomfortable feeling seized 
them, that perhaps the Napiers would not come, for they 
were usually early. But as the organ ceased, a rustle was 
heard, and stately Flora Napier, with her mother, walked 
up the aisle. But, ah, that was a greater disappointment 
than before, for they were alone. Olive’s heart sunk, and 
she began to pay great attention to the service. The sing- 
ing had commenced when footsteps were again heard, and 
Jack Napier, looking a little hot and flurried, entered his 
mother’s pew. Some one else was with him — some one 
who looked very calm and self-possessed, as though he were 
perfectly unconscious of committing any enormity by com- 
ing to church after the service had commenced. A sud- 
den thrill ran through Olive’s frame, while the vivid scar- 
let blood rushed kindling to her cheeks. Oh, how thankful 
she was that her sisters were too much taken up with the 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


new arrival to notice her! But some one saw the recog- 
nition. It was her father, who had cast a momentary 
glance at her, and then looked as quickly away, with a ten- 
der feeling at his heart that had some wonder in it. Olive 
had not seen the look. 

Then it was the baronet after all; and she looked de- 
voutly on her book, and read the responses to the psalms 
in a clear voice, but with profound unconsciousness of the 
meaning of anything she uttered. Presently she found 
courage to look up again and cast a glance sideways at the 
Napiers’’ guest. What a fine, manly figure he had, and 
what an air of proud distinction! He seemed taller by half 
a head than Jack Napier. And then while she was looking 
at him he turned his head, as if attracted by some mag- 
netic influence, and looked full at her. Her eyes dropped 
on her book and she tried hard to keep them there. But 
the more she tried the more it seemed to her as if a thou- 
sand cords drew her eyelids up and impelled her to look at 
him. Several times in the course of the service she met 
his gaze — not turned on her boldly or rudely, but with an 
expression of interest that made her heart thrill with keen 
pleasure. They came out of church side by side, but she 
steadily averted her eyes. It had occurred to her what 
a terrible thing it would be if he were to think her bold! 

Is that the man you spoke to yesterday, Olive?" whis- 
pered Alice eagerly as they left the porch; and Olive 
answered affirmatively. 

^^How handsome he is!" sighed Mary. ^‘1 wish the 
Napiers would bring him to call. 

‘^^They never call on Sunday," answered Alice; ‘^^and 
besides, I dare say Flora will take care to keep him to her- 
self." 

The afternoon was very warm; none of the Hamilton 
party went to church. Mr. Hamilton and Frank had gone 
to make a call. Mrs. Hamilton was dozing over a Sunday 
magazine in the drawing-room; Mary and Alice were amus- 
ing themselves by eating fruit of Mr. Stuart^s picking, in 
the summer-house, and Olive sat m her usual favorite spot, 
under the yew shade, looking dreamingly at the water flow- 
ing at her feet. There was a ring at the bell; it did not 
rouse her — probably her father had found his friends out 
and returned. But presently she heard strange voices — a 
gay, rich-toned woman’s voice, that seemed familiar, and 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


29 


then — then something that made her heart stand still for a 
moment. She peeped out between the dark yew branches. 
There was her mother coming down the lawn, speaking al- 
ternately with beaming smiles to Miss Napier and Sir 
George Eabian. Jack Napier followed behind. Then she 
saw Jier sisters advance, an introduction ensued, and then 
they were all talking and laughing together. Olive would 
have given the world to go forward and join them, but she 
was too shy. Her mother might be displeased and her 
sisters angry if she did so, and perhaps she might betray 
some awkwardness before the stranger — although her dress 
was not creased nor her hair untidy to-day. 

So, with great bitterness of heart, poor Olive elected to 
remain where she was. As the long minutes rolled on, and 
she still caught the gay tones of the party, her face assumed 
its most pensive expression and two great tears stood in her 
eyes. Suddenly a long shadow fell athwart the grass be- 
side her, and she looked up startled. Her gaze met the 
fair, handsome face she was thinking regretfully of. 

Are you always alone?” he said, gently. She rose to 
her feet in dire confusion. 

^^Oh!no — I like — that is — I did not know,” she began 
hurriedly — and then added more collectedly — I do not 
generally see visitors.” 

You do not care for society?” said Sir George, inter- 
rogatively. 

^‘^Oh, yes, I do,” Olive answered eagerly; ^^at least I 
am sure I should.” 

I think you would,” he remarked, looking at her with 
laughing eyes. I do not fancy there can be much of the 
hermit or the misanthrope in your composition. But you 
must have some natural taste for solitude; you were sitting 
all alone in the very same spot yesterday, and just in the 
same attitude too.” 

You have a good memory,” sai(h Olive, secretly feelmg 
much pleased and flattered. 

Only when a thing strikes me very much,” he replied. 

I caught a ghmpse of you just now as I was talking, and 
you reminded me of an old picture that belonged to my 
mother,” 


30 


FEOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


CHAPTER IV. 

ACROSS THE FIELDS. 

Give me a look, give me a face 
That makes simplicity a grace; 

Robes loosely flowing, hair as free: 

I Such sweet neglects more taketh me 

Than all the spurious grace of art; 

They strike mine eyes, but not my heart. 

Ben Jonson. 

Sir George Fabian stood for several minutes talking 
to Olive. Something about her pleased him, something 
fresh, shy, wild — ^he could not quite have told what, but a 
nameless something, that had its charm for a man of the 
world accustomed to women who were both handsome and 
well bred. In thinking of her afterward he dimly tried to 
analyze the impression she produced upon him and failed. 
But his keenest recollection of her was the full, bright, 
steadfast gaze of her eyes that fell shyly before the look of 
admiration with which he met them. 

Mary and Alice came wonderingly across the lawn when 
they caught sight of Olivers white dress fluttering in the di- 
rection Sir George had taken. They wondered still more 
when they saw her bright face lifted up to his and his keen 
gaze turned downward upon her. Such a thing was unr 
heard of as any man taking notice of the child when they 
were by ready and glad to be talked of. Alice stepped 
back. 

‘^I shall speak to mamma, she said, and called her 
mother aside. 

Mamma,” she whispered, do call Olive. She is mak- 
ing herself so forward — I don^t know what Sir George will 
think of her.” 

Mrs. Hamilton, greatly vexed, stepped toward the yew- 
tree. 

Olive,” she said, reprovingly, and at the tone the girl 
colored deeply, I thought you were in the house.” 

I have been here all the afternoon, mamma,” Olive re- 
plied, humbly. I was not interfering with Mary or 
Alice.” 

I think you had better go and see if your papa and 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


31 


Frank have returned/^ Mrs. Hamilton remarked gently; 
but there was an under-current of displeasure in her voice 
that attracted Sir George Fabian^s quick ear. 

^^Poor child! I don’t suppose she has a very pleasant 
time of it/’ was the reflection he made. 

Olive turned away to the house and her sisters endeav- 
ored to engross the baronet’s attention in her place. He 
answered them politely; but there was not a vestige of ap- 
parent interest in his manner. He was a gentleman who 
had a strong dislike to being thwarted in any way, having 
never been contradicted from his childhood. He was ill- 
pleased that this little acquaintance to whom he had taken 
such a fancy should be chidden, and sent away from him; 
his attentions were not wont to be so treated; he was glad 
when Miss Napier took her leave. 

Do you think the Miss Hamiltons pretty?” she asked 
him as they walked homeward. 

admire one of them,” he responded. 

Alice, I suppose — the fairer of the two.” 

^^No, I mean the youngest.” 

^^What! Olive?” 

think they call her Olive.” 

Why, she is considered a perfect fright by the family. 
They generally keep her out of the way of visitors. It must 
have been quite by accident that you saw her to-day. ” 

A fortunate accident, then,” Sir George said, smiling. 

Do you really admire her more than her sisters?” Miss 
Napier asked, surprised. 

So much more that I find a difficulty in believing her 
to be nearly connected with them. Tell me. Miss Napier, 
is she not a step-sister? — a little Cinderella, in fact?” 

No, indeed, they have all the same father and mother. 
What makes you take such a strange fancy? Do you im- 
agine they are really unkind to the child?” 

Not I,” said Sir George, in alight tone, as though the 
subject was one he thought hardly worth pursuing. It 
was simply a vague sort of impression, a warm Sunday af- . 
ternoon in the country has rather a tendency to make one 
speculative. ” 

.Tlien they turned into the grand old garden,, where, 
many long years since, beautiful, stately women and court- 
ly cavaliers had laughed and jested, sneered and scandal- 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HAULS. 


82 

ized, intrigued and envied under the broad shadows of the 
magnificent old trees. 

Mrs. Napier was sitting on a low garden seat, speculating 
on the possibility of having a baronet for a son-in-law, and 
of hearing her handsome daughter called my lady.” She 
had a great respect for position — even greater than for 
wealth — perhaps because she had the latter, and lacked the 
first. In younger days she had been ambitious for herself; 
now, when fate was not likely to interpose to alter the life 
that she had made a tolerably smooth, though not a con- 
tented one, her hopes depended on her children. She had 
suffered a terrible disappointment in one already, though, 
as she sat pondering now, it did not seem too late to 
be remedied. Her daughter, on whose handsome face and 
elegant manner she was wont to build such hopes, had in- 
flicted on her a cruel blow — she had fallen willfully, obsti- 
nately in love with a poor cousin, who had not the smallest 
chance of improving his position — at least not for many 
years to come. No reasoning, no anger, no threats had 
any power over the girl — she was willful; she had been 
spoiled from her childhood up — she defied opposition, she 
rebelled against contradiction. 

Then Mrs. Napier had sense enough to change her tac- 
tics. She procured an appointment for her nephew in In- 
dia, and promised her consent to his marriage with her 
daughter when he returned in four years. She knew, or 
thought she knew, the effect of absence — not a short one, 
that only endears, but a long one that forgets. Walter 
More had been gone but ten months, and Mrs. Napier was 
doing her best to divert her daughter's thoughts from him. 
But Florals nature was a strong one — ^not very likely to for- 
get any one whom she had loved dearly — at least not soon. 
So, although she rarely spoke of her cousin, and was will- 
ing to receive attention from other men, there was not the 
shghtest dangler of any one else usurping his place in her 
affections. Sir George Fabian admired her a little, and 
liked her a great deal in the short time he had been with 
her — she was lady-like, agreeable, and rather clever, but 
not at all the sort of woman he thought lovable — too cold, 
too self-possessed. Mrs. Napier’s speculations then were 
very unprofitable; but, like many that we indulge in every 
week of our lives, very pleasant to her mind in the form- 
ing. 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


33 


Sir George^s visit was to be a very short one this time, 
but he had promised to come again and stay longer. He 
must absolutely be in town the following evening, to meet 
a friend who was coming up from the North; so Mrs. Na- 
pier arranged to dine earlier, to suit her guest^s conven- 
ience, and at eight o^clock his phaeton was at the door, with 
the handsome, fretting chestnuts, impatient to be off. 
Flora and Jack came out to see him depart, and after cor- 
dial adieus, invitations, and promises to come again, he 
took the reins from the groom and started Londonward. 

I should like to have seen that shy little girl again,” 
thought Sir George, and as he passed her father^s house he' 
looked up at the windows, but no one was there. He 
drove on through the small town and out again past the 
fields and hedges that lay on either side of the road. And 
presently, leaning half across a stile, he saw the shy little 
girl ” of whom he had been thinking. When she looked* 
up and recognized him, she blushed vividly, returning liis 
bow with a little confused motion of her head. There was 
something piquant to Sir George in the shy, frightened 
manner of the girTs recognition of his salutation, and he 
reined in his horses and jumped out. 

Are you walking out alone?” he asked her; and she said, 
^^Yes.” 

You are not afraid?” and then she smiled, and, gain- 
ing a little more confidence, said : 

Afraid? What should I be afraid of?” 

He laughed. 

I do not know the dangers of this particular neighbor- 
hood, but in any case it must be dull for you alone. You 
are too young to be fond of your own society. ” 

Oh ! but I donT mind it; and then if I am alone I can 
not be in any one's way." 

But how coidd you be in any one's way at any time?'^ 

My sisters always like to go out together,” responded 
Olive, a little confused; and of course they are nearer the 
same age; and, as I do not go out to parties at all, I have 
nothing to talk to them about. ” 

Were you going home?” said Sir George, wishing to 
prolong the conversation, but not considering the spot 
where it was being held quite convenient. 

No; lam going across the fields to the towing-path,'' 


34 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


and she pointed to where the river wound along the curved 
hanks. 

Then, if you do not mind, I will walk with you, and 
the phaeton can meet me round by the road. I see some 
cows, and I know ladies are always afraid of them.^^ 

I am not,^^ said Olive; but she was delighted at his 
proposition. 

Sir George spoke to his groom, and then followed Olive 
over the stile. With her usual luck, in jumping down she 
tore her muslin dress. 

Ah! why did you not waif and let me help you?^^ ex- 
claimed her companion. 

I am always awkward, said poor Olive, ruefully, look- 
ing at the, rent. 

Or unfortunate — which Sir George asked, smiling. 

Perhaps the Fates persecute you in the matter of dress 

I think they do/’ cried Olive, disconsolately. My 
sisters never tear their dresses.” 

Perhaps they don^t jump off stiles without assistance,” 
and Olive was forced to admit they did not. 

I dare say you will be very sedate when it is your turn 
to come out.” 

I hope so,” she assented; ^^but I am afraid that won^t 
be for a long time. ” 

Would it be impertinent to ask how old you are?” 
was seventeen last March.” 

^^But 1 thought yomig ladies came out at seventeen 
now?” 

Perhaps I should, if Mary or Alice were married,*’^ said 
Olive, waxing confidential; ^^but mamma would not like 
to take out three girls.” 

And you do not care very much about it, I dare say,” 
remarked Sir George. 

^^Oh, indeed, I should!” she exclaimed, eagerly looking 
at him with glistening eyes. I am so tired of always 
learning. ” 

Do you not care to be clever, and accomplished, and 
admired?” 

I should like to be admired,” said Olive, with candor; 

but Mary and Alice say it is no use being clever — people 
are only loved and admired for being pretty. ” 

Then if you were ambitious, you might be admired for 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


35 


being clever, and loved for being pretty,'’^ he said, looking 
down at her. 

exclaimed Olive, raising her eyes with a quick gest- 
ure, and then dropping them in sudden confusion as she 
met his gaze. 

Yes, you," he answered, quietly, enjoying* her embar- 
rassment. Did no one ever tell you you were pretty?" 

No, indeed," answered the young girl, with unfeigned 
candor. 

Perhaps pretty is not the right expression," Sir George 
continued, musingly. And then he looked again at her, 
saying in a tone that expressed no familiarity or flattery. 
You have the most beautiful eyes I ever saw. 

Olive experienced a strange desire to run away from him, 
or say or do something equally foolish and uncalled for. 
She felt so terribly shy and confused — in all her life before 
she had never heard herself admired ; and being unused to 
the ways of the world, she had not the slightest idea of how 
it was possible to accept or parry a compliment gracefully. 

This handsome man of fashion was amusing himself, 
was laughing at her, she thought, and felt quite wounded 
and ashamed. Sir George, looking again at her, although 
unabla quite to read her feelings, saw that she was not at 
her ease. 

see, you think me impertinent for speaking my 
thoughts freely," he said. When you are a little older, 
you will hear the same thing so often, that it will weary 
rather than surprise you;" and his manner was so grave, 
that Olive recovered her ease at once. 

Have you left Mrs. Napier^s?" she asked. 

Yes — I have an engagement in London to-night; but 
they have been kind enough to ask me to repeat my visit. " 

Do you think you shall?" exclaimed Olive, with only 
half-suppressed eagerness. 

I am sure I shall," he said, stopping, for they had 
come out into the road again, where the horses were paw- 
ing up the dust in clouds. Good-bye;" tlieir eyes met 
once more, and he gave the slightest pressure to her hand. 

When he was gone, she was about to sit down and think 
over the wonderful event that had happened to her, but she 
heard her name called sharply. 

Olive," cried two voices in a breath, and looking up, 
she saw her sisters seated in their boat, book in hand, just 


3G 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


under the sloping bank. She started, the blood kindling 
hotly in her cheeks as she approached them. 

am glad you still have the grace to be ashamed of 
yourself/'’ cried Mary, in an angry, sneering tone. Come 
into the boat— you shall go home at once, and we will tell 
papa and mamma what we have seen. So this is why you 
are so fond of wandering about the lanes alone./^ 

I never heard of anything so sly and artful," cried 
Alice, indignantly. 

Why, what could be the harm?" said Olive, trembling 
and frightened at the severity of her sister’s manner. He 
got out of his phaeton, and I could not refuse to walk 
with him. " 

All I hope is that we shall never see him again," cried 
Mary. What on earth he can think of a girl at your 
age putting herself so forward I can’t imagine. I should 
be ashamed to look in his face again after this. " 

But what have I done?" cried poor Olive. I am 
sure, Alice, I saw you walk all along the towing-path with 
Mr. Baynes, not a fortnight ago, and he tried to — " Then 
the girl stopped short. 

^^You odious spy!" cried Alice, her face all aflame. 

How dare you come prying after us? But we’ll take 
good care for the future that you don’t go out alone. Papa 
and mamma shall hear of your proceedings. Come with us 
at once. " 

will not go with you!" cried Oliver, resolutely. 
have done nothing wrong. I shall tell papa and mamma 
myself. " And she turned hack by the path she had come, 
while her sisters called after her in impotent anger. 

She hurried home, but Mary and Alice had arrived be- 
fore her, and were talking eagerly to Mrs. Hamilton in the 
drawing-room. Mr. Hamilton was not there. 

Olive," said her mother, in great displeasure, as she 
entered, I can scarcely credit my ears that you have been 
conducting yourself in this forward and unbecoming man- 
ner. " 

^^Oh! mamma," she cried, ^‘1 meant no harm. What 
could I do?" 

1 knew you were awkward and ill-tempered. I never 
imagined you to he sly as well," continued Mrs. Hamilton, 
with increased severity. This is the last time you go out 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


37 


alone. And I do not wish to see you any more this even- 
ing. Go to your room. 

Olive with choking sobs prepared to obey, but at this mo- 
ment her father entered the room. 

‘'"Why, Olive! what is the matter?"" he exclaimed; and 
the poor child, crying bitterly, hid her head on her fatker"s 
shoulder. 

"" I did not know it was wrong, indeed, papa,"" she sob- 
bed; and he stroked her head and sat down, drawing heron 
his knee. 

""Now, Mary,"" he said to his wife, ""please explain."" 
And Mrs. Hamilton gently and suavely uttered her protest 
against 01ive"s forwardness, 

""And now for your version of the story, my dear,"" said 
Mr. Hamilton to his youngest daughter, when her mother 
had finished. And Olive told him straightforwardly how 
she had met Sir George — how he had alighted from his 
phaeton, and insisted on walking across the field with her. 

"" And papa, I did not know it was wrong. What ought 
I to have done?"" she finished up piteously. 

"" Honi soit qui mal y pense,” answered Mr. Hamilton. 
"" I see no harm, my dear."" And he kissed Olive affection- 
ately. "" I suppose,"" he said angrily to his wife, "" if it had 
been Mary or Alice you would not have been so wonderfully 
squeamish in your notions of propriety. And I will tell 
you what, young ladies,"" he continued, sharply, turning to 
his elder daughters, ""don"t think because I don"t take 
much notice that I can not see your jealous, ill-natured 
ways to your sister. You may influence your mother 
against her, but you won"t me."" 

And with an angry look he rose and left the room. 


CHAPTER V. 

A BELIEVER IK THE SYRIAK GOD. 

This bud of love by summer’s ripening breath 
May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet. 

Romeo and Juliet. 

Sir George Fabiak was rather more thoughtful than 
usual as he drove toward London, unconscious of the 
trouble his attentions had brought on his shy little friend. 
He was very impressionable, and like most people of that 


38 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


caliber, his impressions were the reverse of lasting. It 
might very easily have been said of him that he was wax 
to receive,” but I doubt if his best friends would have cared 
to continue the quotation, and hint anything about his 
being marble to retain.” Still, men and women are often 
inconstant and fond of change until their destiny comes to 
them, and then we know how they sometimes surprise their 
friends, and refute the prophecies they have called forth. 

No one could say that when Sir George Fabian^s heart 
was stirred by a real affection, he would not love faithfully 
to the end of his life. 

Every year, every month, every week of the time since he 
had been born into the world, until now, he had been spoil- 
ed consistently. Every one liked him — he possessed that 
nameless charm that makes some people universal favorites, 
and which others, far more deserving, frequently lack. It 
is a question worth our consideration, whether the people 
whom we like the best, whose society is most congenial to 
us, are really those whom we esteem the most, and feel the 
greatest respect for. I think not. To be a general favor- 
ite is almost impossible to persons who possess strong prin- 
ciples, a high sense of honor and real sincerity. They fail 
to see, or at all events to recognize as right, the tact that 
avoids speaking disagreeable truths and seeing unpleasant 
things, and the genial humor and well-bred tolerance that 
often spring from sheer selfishness and' indifference. They 
can not let a friend ruin or make himself ridiculous with- 
out an earnest protest. But that is poor policy in the 
world of fashion. Smile in private over the follies of your 
friends, and sigh if you please over their imprudence; but 
if you would be popular — if you want *to make friends of 
the Mammon of unrighteousness — at all events, if you de- 
sire to be received into their houses, preserve a discreet si- 
lence, a courteous blindness to their short-comings. It 
isnT Christian, perhaps, but it is so indisputably well-bred; 
and then these remarks are only meant for people who love 
the world and value society. 

A train of thought is worse than Bradshaw for mislead- 
ing you, and taking you to all manner of places where 
you donT want to go; so, ere it be too late, let me has- 
ten back to Sir George, pursuing his meditations as he 
drives townward, aided by the composing infiuence of a fra- 
grant Havana. No ! I niust go further back than that, for in 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


39 


these days, when it is so important to know who^s who, 
tliat we carry a pocket volume to tell us, and when it is 
the exception to have a great-grandfather (at all events 
one to be proud of), I am in duty hound to put the gen- 
tle reader in possession of a few facts, to prove that my 
hero was not altogether so mushroom as to be undeserv- 
ing of notice or interest. 

I can not boast any great length of pedigree for him ; 
but his family was just old enough to be thoroughly re- 
spectable. The first baronet had been created in the early 
part of the eighteenth century, for some service rendered 
to Government, and there had been three successors to 
the title between the first and the present Sir George. 
There was a handsome house and park on a moderate 
scale in Blankshire, and five thousand a year to keep up 
a respectable position in the county with. The present 
baronet, who had a fair share of this world^s goods, was 
at present very far from coming to the conclusion that 
all is vanity.” He could have enumerated a great many 
things that seemed to him well worth living for — suffi- 
cient wealth, a good constitution, men^s friendship, women^’s 
favor, a handsome person, and a very fair position. He 
would have said with some of you, my readers, People 
only begin to moralize when they can no longer enjoy. 
It is hardly fair of them to try and put one out of conceit 
with pleasant things, because their day is gone by, and they 
canT have back the cake they have eaten.” And quite 
right too. For my part I agree with you all. Enjoy heart- 
ily and thankfully while you have the power — it will leave 
you soon enough, and then the chances are you will have a 
glimmering of the temptation one has to give the young, 
light-hearted folks, just setting out on their journey, the 
benefit of our advice and experience. 

Sir George Fabian could not recollect his father, who 
had been killed by a fall from his horse wliile hunting. 
He remembered the pale grief -worn face of his mother who 
hardly noticed him, and never smiled, and then, suddenly 
as if the power of loving she had thought buried in the 
grave of the man she had loved so dearly returned to her, 
she came to idolize her boy, adoring and spoiling him con- 
sistently until her death, three years before my story opens. 
He had an only sister, a cold, proud, handsome woman, 
whose only weak point seemed to be affection for her 


40 


FEOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


brother. She had recently married a man of old family 
and considerable wealth, a match much more de conoen- 
ance than de cmir. So there was another very desirable 
point about Sir George Fabian for the consideration of any 
woman who might wish to marry him — he possessed very 
few relations. 

He had been to Eton and Oxford, and since then had 
traveled moderately — that is to say, he had spent a good 
deal of time in St. Petersburg, Vienna, Berlin, Paris, and 
Naples, and had visited most Continental cities of note. 

He was a good linguist, hadawinning manner, rode, 
shot, and danced well, so that on the whole he was an 
agreeable member of society, and a great favorite with 
most women. In his turn he had a very fair liking for the 
gentler sex — an ardent devotion indeed sometimes — but he 
did not care to be always with them. He would rather not 
see them in the hunting-field or the stables, or billiard- 
room, or at a great many other places and times where 
men congregate together. He liked them to be always 
pretty, always feminine, always in such places' and situa- 
tions as they had a right to be mistress of. That at least 
was his theory, but whether he was always consistent in it 
must be doubted, since the fascinating influence that lovely 
Amazon Miss Beresford exercised over him all one hunting 
season, and his rather notorious flirtation with Mrs. Cory- 
ton Selwyn. 

He Was only twenty-six, but had already conjugated the 
verb to love in most of its moods — principally in the 
imperfect tense. His manner to women was characterized 
by a remarkable courtesy and deference such as invariably 
chann the sex, and are ascribed by them to an inborn chiv- 
alry. They would be surprised, perhaps, to find how much 
more real respect and belief in them often clings to the 
hearts of rough, blunt-mannered men than lies beneath 
that polished courtliness they value so much. 

I think for the present purpose of my story T have said 
enough to give the reader some definite ideas concerning 
the man I write of. I hate digression (at least other peo- 
ple’s digressions), and after all, my friend, if you were 
asked to sum up any of your intimate acquaintances, could 
you say much more about them? 

The evening shadows were deepening faster and faster as 
Sir George neared London. It was a sultry evening; he 


FHOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


41 


felt it oppressive, now that they had left the lanes and 
emerged on to the straggling commencement by which we 
approach our great metropolis on every side. They passed 
the poor, cheap, poverty-stricken streets with their small, 
mean shops, windowless and lighted by a flaring jet of gas, 
the itinerant venders hawking their stale fish and limp 
greens along the foul gutters, the wan, unhealthy children 
still lingering round, the laborers hanging about the mid- 
dle of the road, shrieked at and jibed jby coarse, sharp- 
tongued viragoes; and the gin-palaces — palaces, indeed, 
with their bright lights and enticing splendor to the poor, 
forlorn, uncomforted wretches for whose destruction they 
are planned. Then they came to the semi-genteel resi- 
dences of brick and plaster, with little gardens in front 
and pretentious flights of steps to the door. It was such a 
hot night all the windows were open and here and there 
one had a refreshing view of a cozy party at supper, or a 
tired clerk enjoying his penny paper after the day^s labors, 
and now and then a lady tinkling at a cottage piano. 
•Further on came grand houses and shops, then handsome 
squares, and evidences of wealth and comfort. Only 
here, all the blinds were closely drawn, and you could not 
look in. Past the Park gates — past the imposing statue of 
out great hero, half-way up Piccadilly, and then Sir George 
flung the reins to the groom and jumped out. A gentle- 
man was leaning over the small balcony smoking. 

Hollo, George!" he shouted. 

How are you, old fellow?" cried the other, applying 
his latch-key to the door. 

He dashed up the stairs, and in a second was grasping 
his friend^s hand heartily. 

Glad to see you once again, Grevil, old boy. Been 
here long?" 

Only half an hour. Infernal hot journey!" 

Had any dinner?" 

Yes, I got your note before starting, so I dined at the 
Eag. Dull as ditch-water. Hardly a soul I knew. Only 
old Diddler and Tommy Banks, and theyTe worse than no 
one. Never knew town so thoroughly cleared out in J uly. " 

No wonder either — it’s been the hottest season I ever 
remember, everybody^’s done up. No one would sto23 in 
this stifling atmosphere but the poor devils who are down- 
right obliged. INo done nothing but drink Badminton 


42 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


and eat ices for the last fortnight. How are Ethel and the 
governor?” 

^^All right. The governor ^s coming up to town on 
Wednesday. EtheFs got a new whim; guess what it is.” 

Oh, EtheFs flights are altogether beyond me,” laughed 
Sir George. Wants a black boy and a monkey, perhaps?” 

Worse, my dear fellow, worse.” 

A zebra out of the zoological gardens to ride?^^ 

Worse still.” 

^^Then I give it up.” 

She has taken it into her head that she is dull and 
wants a companion.” 

Sir George whistled. 

Make the house pleasant, I should think,” he remarked. 

Oh, but she^s not to be old or learned, or frumpish. 
Ethel does not care about her being accomplished, only 
tolerably young, cheerful, and amiable. Latter indispens- 
able, you know, with EtheFs queer temper. ” 

The baronet laughed. He and Miss Ethel Anson had 
been destined for each other by their families since 
they were children, until two years ago they had frankly 
and unceremoniously confessed to each their disapprobation 
of the paternal views. But they were on very good terms, 
nevertheless, only their attachment was strictly platonic. 

I am very fond of you, George,” Ethel had said de- 
murely, ^^but I wouldn^t marry you for all the world.” 

And why, pray, ma helW” he asked, laughing. 

You love yourself too much to be as devoted a slave 
as I should want,” she answered, half serious, half laugh- 
ing. And, my dear, you are flckle, and I am jealous. 
And so when I found you becoming indifferent and taking 
notice of other women, I should reverse the story of Othello 
and Desdemona and smother you. Or if I didn’t do that, 
I should weary you to death with my suspicions and re- 
proaches, and then go away and eat my heart out with re- 
morse for having done it. Ho, George, depend on it, we 
shouldn’t suit each other. And then I like to have lots of 
men to admire me, and I know 1 never could get out of 
that habit if I were married fifty times over. The moon 
sees many brooks — the brook sees but one moon. And I 
must be the moon, you know, George.” 

Very well, then,” Sir George had answered with mock 
gravity, thm I will not he like the silly child and cry for 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


43 


the moon. After your long and eloquent tirade I am quite 
convinced of the justice of your conclusions.^^ 

And happily it won^t break your heart, she pouted. 

I hope to get resigned in time/^ he replied; and then 
they looked in each other^s eyes and laughed, and went off 
amicably to eat strawberries in the garden. 

Is Ethel coming up too?^^ Sir George asked of Captain 
Grevil Anson. 

No, Ethel leaves all choice to my father’s discretion. 
She had enough of London in May and June, and doesn’t 
want to see its dingy old face again until another season, she 
says. She’s going to Scotland next week, to stay a month 
with the Eitzallans.” 

Then we shall meet,” said Sir George. ^‘1 go on Fri- 
day. Shall you be there, Grevil?” 

No. It’s an infernal nuisance. I had made all my 
arrangements, never dreaming of not getting extension of 
leave, and old Folthorp gets crusty all of a sudden, a^d 
writes to insist on my turning up on the twenty-sixth. Lady 
Julia Scott is to be there. I’ve been getting my courage to 
the sticking-point, and had settled everything splendidly 
in my own mind. The chances are some big red-haired 
Scotchman will walk off with my prize now!” 

The very best thing that could happen to you too,” 
cried Sir George. Why, Grevil, what the deuce can you 
want to marry an heiress for with your prospects?” 

Prospects be anathematized!” retorted Captain Anson. 
I have nothing to look for while the governor lives, and 
I’m sure I don’t want him to hurry on my account. It’s 
all very fine for you, George, who are your own master, and 
have as much to spend as you want, but please to remem- 
ber I’m only a poor devil with five hmidred a year besides 
my pay, and at the beck and call of my queen and country. ” 
“ Think of the honor and glory,” laughed the baronet. 

Honor and glory be blanked,” said Captain Anson 
again. You see, George,” he proceeded, I have sundry 
debts the governor won’t pay, and I don’t care to post-obit 
the old boy. To my mind it’s a blackguard sort of thing. 
I want to cut the army, and keep a few racers. By the way, 
do you see Lampooner’s scratched for the Leger?” 

Yes; lucky we did not back him. But, Grevil, Lady 
Julia squints.” 

Oh, I grant she’s ugly, but a woman can afford to be 


44 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


that with ten thousand a year. Besides, I should never feel 
jealous of her, and that^s a blessing one can appreciate after 
seeing a little of Alick Kuthven and his pretty wife." 

What! is he jealous again?" 

Yes, l^m not surprised either this time. Old Voile 
has got a new curate, tremendously high-church, with a 
Raphael celestial style of face; and pretty little Maud has 
taken to working altar-cloths and fasting on Fridays. 
The last thing I heard was she and Alick had a tremendous 
row because she wanted to confess to the good-looking cu- 
rate. Old Alick threateiied to kick him from the top of 
the stairs to the bottom if he dared to come in any other 
capacity than that of a morning caller, and fotbade Maud 
to see him alone." 

Quite right, too!" said Sir George. 

^‘'Oh! yes, quite right," agreed Captain Anson, ^‘^but 
there isn*’t a wrong thought, I donT believe, in little Maud. 
Only she^s the most provoking, malicious little sprite that 
ever tormented a jealous husband. If Alick had only the 
sense to seem indifferent, she would leave off soon enough. " 

I should not like to have such a woman for my wife," 
muttered Sir George, emphatically. 

“What sort of a woman would you like?" asked the 
other, leaning back in his luxurious chair, with one leg 
dangling at ease over the side, and puffing at a cheroot. 
“I never knew you to have any downright opinions about 
the sex yet — at least, not any that you held to consistently. " 

“ My dear Grevil, you never heard me talk about my 
ideas of a wife. Of course women in the abstract — " 

“ Are different from w^omen in the contract," laughed 
Captain Anson. “ Well, go on." 

“ I should like my wife to be very young, and never to 
have been in love with any one but me. " 

“ YoiTre modest!" laughed his friend. “At what age 
would you take this paragon whose first and only love you 
should be? At thirteen? At five? Nay, rather have her 
from her cradle, and shut her up until she arrives at a con- 
venient age, as they do in the fairy-tales. " 

“ OonT scoff, Grevil, I am serious. I want a girl who 
doesiiT know anything about the ways of the world, to whom 
the tricks and cajoleries of society are a blank page. A 
girl who is young and fresh and artless, who laughs when 
she is glad, and cries when she is sorry, who would love you 


PROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 45 

with her whole heart, and show everything she thought and 
felt in her face. 

What graybeard fancies are these mocked Grevil 
Anson; what doting imaginations of a worn-out voluptu- 
ary? Come, George, wait until you are forty at least to 
indulge in these insipid ideas. Ignorance isn^t innocence, 
you know, old fellow. The real thing that seems to me 
worth admiring is a woman conversant with the ways of 
good society — who can be charming, witty, gay, or serious, 
according to the company she is in — who has a tact and 
delicacy that never offends, and a quiet dignity which re- 
tains her self-respect and the respect of others. By Jove! 
George, your taste has changed since you indulged such a 
grande passion for the Beresford and Laura Selwyn. I 
shall begin to think Ethel is right in saying you change 
your loves with the seasons. ” 

I am not in love with any one that I know of at 
present, returned Sir George. I was only giving you 
my ideal. 

^^Alas, for the consistency of poor human nature!'^ 
laughed Grevil. “ To think 1 should remember a time 
when your ideal was the most outrageous coquette, and one 
of the fastest women in London. 

Nous avons change tout cela. CanT you imagine it 
possible for one^s opinions to undergo a process of reforma- 
tion ?"’"’ 

Certainly, returned Captain Anson. Just like go- 
ing through the bankruptcy court, and getting white- 
washed.^^ 


CHAPTEE VI. 

A LITTLE ADVEKTURESS. 

A waking eye, a prying mind, 

A heart that stirs is hard to bind, 

A hawk’s keen sight ye can not blind. 

Charles Lamb. 

Now, I am rather fearful of lessening the interest of my 
story by changing the scene too frequently; but there is a 
personage I have not yet introduced to the reader, who will 
occupy a prominent position in these pages. But for a very 
simple accident she would never have had anything to do 


46 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


with the people I have been writing of; and, ah, how much 
misery they might have been spared! Allans ! it is an ill 
wind that blows nobody any good, and but for that acci- 
dent my poor story would have missed its great staple of 
interest. But am I justified in calling it an accident? AVas 
it not rather one of those predestined events that come to 
us in the guise of accidents, and change all the current of 
our lives? I am about to become prosy. Remnons ! 

Miss Henrietta {nee Harriet) French was sitting in the 
school-room at Laurel Villa, the residence of Mr. Slater, 
provision merchant, recently become Thomas Slater, Esq. 
She was the young lady spoken of by Miss Hamilton as 
possessing green eyes and sandy hair. To speak more ac- 
curately and with less prejudice, I should pronounce her 
hair to be rather of a neutral tint, and her eyes gray. An 
insignificant figure, carelessly attired, a sallow complexion, 
and an expression of intense weariness, scarcely go to make 
up a very charming whole, but then we must make some 
allowance for surrounding circumstances. 

The heat was stilling, and the room in which she sat a 
bear-garden, a pandemonium. Two boys, of five and 
seven, respectively, were disputing with much acrimony 
the possession of a top; a girl was riding the rocking-horse 
violently, and a younger sister alternately whistled through 
one end of a whip and slashed at the wooden Pegasus with 
the other. Unfortunately, the lash happened to come into 
contact with the fiesh instead of the inanimate limb, at 
which, with a sudden yell, the elder girl slipped from her 
steed and began to pinch and slap the offender in good 
earnest. 

The turmoil having thus become quite unendurable. Miss 
French looked up. 

Gwendoline! Eveliim! what you doing? My head is 
quite distracted. Do leave off quarreling!” 

She hit me with the whip!” roared Gwendoline. 

I didnT do it on purpose; and she slapped my face, 
and pinched me !” screamed Evelina. 

It was too hot to argue or be angry, and, besides. Miss 
French was not easily put out, so she said pleasantly: 

There, be good children, and make it up, and we will 
go into the garden. Come, Harold; come, Ernest.” 

I sha^nT come!” cried Harold, sulkily. Mamma said 
we wasnT to.” 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 47 

I don^t think your mamma would object. And, Har- 
old, you must not say wasn^t, but were not. ” 

‘‘I shall retorted the boy. ^^Wasn^t — wasn^t — 

wasn^t!” • 

said Miss French, ^^that is rude.^^ 

I don^t care. You^re not my governess, and I sha^n^t 
stand your lecturing!” 

j Miss French went off quietly. It did not concern her in 
■ the least how the children behaved to her, as long as she 
I succeeded in keeping them tolerably well-mannered before 
their parents. 

She walked listlessly to a garden seat under one of the 
great oak-teees, and took up'a newspaper that had been left 
there. She laid it down on her lap, shutting her eyes. 

What a life! what a horrible life this is!” she said to 
herself. ^^The vulgarity, the dullness, the monotony. 
What a fool I was ever to go out as governess! Why didn^’t 
I take to the stage, or else look for a situation as lady^s- 
maid. I had fifty times rather sit in the kitchen and hear 
the servants gossip over their tea than to be stuck up to 
play propriety to their vulgar master and mistress, or try 
to hammer a few ideas into these wooden-headed little 
wretches. I could laugh aloud sometimes to see Mrs. Salter 
in a perfect agony lest she has been too familiar with me, 
trying to counteract her vulgar condescension by an assump- 
tion of sham dignity. Never to see a man too! Harry 
was soon walked off out of the school-room when his mother 
discovered what he came for. • He^s a vulgar little wretch 
too, but he was better than nobody. I sha^n^t be able to 
stand this hfe much longer.” And then Miss French took 
up the paper. She was going to throw it aside when she 
found it was only the advertisement sheet, but a sudden 
thought struck her. She began to read. The various re- 
quirements of anxious parents met her view. One para- 
graph made her laugh outright. A lady desired to engage 
a governess who was competent to teach German and French 
thoroughly, with the rudiments of Latin. Must be a good 
musician, draw and sing, willing to undertake the repair- 
ing of the children's wardrobes; and the last condition was 
indispensable, she must belong to the Established Church. 
The proffered remuneration for these various services was 
Dot large, thirty pounds per annum. 

Pity they didnT S'dd^ she would be expected to take 


48 


FEOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


up the meals and wait on the lady/^ laughed Henrietta. 
^‘^What consciences some people must have Then she 
read on until she came to a sudden stop. That looks 
rather nice/'’ she mused, and read the advertisement again. 

A gentleman living in the country is desirous of en- 
gaging a companion for his only daughter. Nothing more 
will be required of her than that she shall be young, lady- 
like, good-tenipered, and tolerably accomplished. Good 
references indispensable. Apply by letter only to 0. A., 
Claridge's Hotel, Brook Street.'’^ 

Miss French fell into a train* of thought that lasted a con- 
siderable time. A casual observer would perhaps have 
thought her very indolent and listless, leaning back with 
folded hands, and her eyes apparently vacant and sightless. 
But Henrietta was engaged on the mechanism of a lie, 
which absorbed her as much as the complications of ma- 
chinery may have absorbed the minds of such great men 
as Brunei or Stephenson. A lie is a curious thing; it seems 
to resemble the radiated species in continually multiplying 
itself and branching out all over. It is almost impossible 
to tell a lie and have done with it — you do not know how 
many others will crop up out of the first to shelter and hide 
it. One lie is like the refiection of one face in a cut mir- 
ror. People who set to work to tell one systematically 
without risking detection ought to be gifted with inventive 
genius and imagination. Everything should fit in like a 
puzzle, so that no unfinished corner may be left exposed. 
Miss French had rather a clever head for scheming — she 
liked the excitement besides. It was rather perilous in her 
peculiar position, but that gave it. zest. By the time she 
was summoned in to tea she had not only framed the first 
lie, but had woven a complete mesh- work of small ones 
about it, that might be necessary to its support and embel- 
lishment. Then she rose from her seat quite pleased and 
happy, told the children stories during tea-time, and allowed 
them to use knives to their bread and butter (an unwonted 
treat), finally interceding with their mamma to let them 
go on the river in a boat, under her supervision of course. 

How \ should enjoy the water," she thought, if I 
could only lean back and think — the soft, gliding motion 
of a boat has such a soothing influence." 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


49 


But just at this moment Master Harold pretended to fall 
down on the seat, which made the boat lurch violently, 
whereupon all the other children screamed and scolded 
until there was a perfect Babel of sound. Their governess 
was profoundly thankful when they had retired to bed that 
night, and she was at liberty to continue the machinery of 
her plot. I began my story with the full determination of 
going straight on, without once looking back, or indulging 
in the faintest suspicion of retrospect; but I find I can not 
— in fact, I have come to a full stop. I labor under a diffi- 
culty that probably affects play-writers — that of trying to 
get over the necessary soliloquies and reminiscences with- 
out making the audience yawn. How difficult it is to pull 
the right strings, and to pull them at the proper time! 
Wilhelm Meister even did not succeed with his puppets at 
first. 

I must tell you a little about Henrietta French, and 
about her life before you found her sitting, a weary, unat- 
tractive little governess in that bear-garden of a school- 
room. She would never have told you herself — few people 
that I have met in my life-time have possessed the gift of 
reticence in such an eminent degree; but then I happen to 
know all about her, and no one, I fancy, will quarrel with 
me now, whatever I may choose to say of her. She was an 
orphan, not the child of reduced gentlepeople, as she pre- 
tended, but of a hard-working lawyer’s clerk and a sixth- 
rate dress-maker. Her parents were dead. She was very 
thankful for that; not that she had ever in her life received 
anything but kindness from them, but she was ambitious, 
and they might have dragged her down in her struggle to 
rise. When a young girl, she had profited with avidity by 
any chance of learning that came in her way, and had pined 
and fretted bitterly because she could not get a better 
education. One day when she was about sixteen, she was 
sitting reading in her mother’s parlor. The evening was 
warm, and gradually, with the heat and the hum of pass- 
ing traffic in the street, she fell asleep. When she awoke 
it was almost dark, and she saw the glimmer of a light in 
the adjoining room. There were voices talking, too, at 
first in a subdued tone, and then louder; one she recognized 
as her mother’s; the other belonged to Mrs. Unwin, who 
kept a lodging-house on the opposite side of the street. 

would be a rare chance for your girl/’ Henrietta 


50 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


heard Mrs. Unwin say. She^s a sharp one, and there^s 
no knowing what such a push in the world mightn^t do for 
her. Make quite the lady of her, perhaps 

I don^t want my girl to be a lady,'’^ said Mrs. French, 
quietly. She wasn^ born to it, and it^s best for people 
to keep their own station in life. It^s a thing I don^t hold 
with, letting young people mix with their betters — they only 
come back and look down on their own flesh and blood. 
And please, Mrs. Unwin, don^t speak of it to Harriet, for 
it might unsettle her.” 

Well, well! I say no more,iy[rs. French — only it does 
seem a sin to the girl to let such a chance go by. Here 
sheM get a good eddication, and board and lodging all for 
nothing, and learn the French tongue into the bargain. 
And you know Harrietts got no turn for work, and what^s 
to become of her if anything happens to you and your hus- 
band? Why, thereM be nothin'’ left for her but to starve, 
or go wrong, perhaps. And here if she went to this French 
school, she could go out as governess, and make her forty 
pounds a year afterward, I shouldn'^t wonder.” 

It would break her fathers heart,” cried poor Mrs. 
French; and IVe heard say girls learn a great deal more 
harm than good in those foreign schools. And she never 
could get accustomed to frogs, poor thing, I^’m sure.” 

^^Tut, tut!” interrupted Mrs. Unwin, ^^don^t you be- 
lieve such nonsense. It^s my belief the French don’t eat 
frogs no more than you or Ido — indeed, "I'^ve heard tell that 
it^s only English that ever order them, just out of curiosity 
like; and pretty well they have to pay for them, too. You 
know my daughter's been to Paris, and she says the living 
there is first-rate. But there, it^s getting late, and I must 
be off. Good-bye to you, Mrs. French.” 

The moment that the door closed on Mrs. Unwin, Har- 
riet rushed out of the back-parlor. 

Oh, mother, what did she say about the French school?” 
she said, breathlessly. 

Mrs. iB’rench looked sadly troubled. 

YouTe a naughty girl to be hiding about listening to 
what people say. It wasnT meant for you at all.” 

^^Oh, mother, I didnT mean to listen; but I just woke 
up and heard her. Where is it? Who wants me to go? 
Ho tell me, there^s a dear. ” 


PROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 51 

And she put her arms coaxingly round her mother^s 
heck. 

Whereas the use of my telling you? Your father will 
never let you go, and I am sure if he would I wouldn't/^ 
finished up Mrs. French, querulously. 

But she was a weak, yielding woman, and presently, 
moved by her daughter^’s importunity, she told the whole 
story. A French lady had come to lodge at Mrs. Unwinds. 
She kept a boarding-school at Boulogne, and during the 
holidays had come to visit London for a few days. On her 
return to Boulogne she wished to take with her a young 
Enghsh girl, who was to talk English to the young foreign 
ladies. In return she would receive a partial education, 
with board and lodging gratis. Mrs. Unwin had thought 
immediately of Harriet French, and had come over at once 
to tell her mother of this rare opportunity. 

Poor Harriet never closed her eyes the whole night. 
Here was a fine chance come in her way, and, perhaps, 
after all, it would be no use if her parents opposed it. To 
learn French, to mix with young ladies, to become a lady 
herself, perhaps — what a glimpse of paradise! With such 
a view on the distant horizon, the girl thought or dreamed 
little of the toil, the weariness, the hardships, that lay be- 
tween her and her goal. It did not seem very hard to leave 
country, home, and parents. Her ambition carried her be- 
yond those regrets that would have been so bitter to most 
young people. 

In the morning, without telling her intention to her 
mother, Harriet hurried over to Mrs. Unwin. It would 
be needless for me to detail how she schemed and plotted, 
teased and implored, importuned and coaxed her father and 
mother into giving their consent to her acceptance of the 
desired situation; suffice it to say that, after many heart- 
burnings and misgivings, th^ yielded and let her go. 

To most young girls the ordeal of leaving home with a 
complete stranger for a foreign land would have been terri- 
ble, but Harriet French had a strong will, and an ambition 
woHhy of a statesman. Strange enough, cold, hare, deso- 
late enough, was the life that lay before the child (she was 
only a child), but having set her face to the plow, she had 
little thought of turning back. Every scrap of information 
she could pick up was swallowed greedily, but the terms of 
the agreement were not very faithfully kept by Mme. Le- 


52 


PROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


maire. All day long Harriet was obliged to talk English 
to the pupils, who scarcely understood a word, and very 
scanty attention was paid to the education of the friendless 
little foreigner. One thing she must perforce have learned 
— to speak French; about ^hat she had been most anxious. 
In a year^’s time she went home for a short holiday. Her 
parents were astonished at her learning, her manners, her 
style, and confidence, and with some secret satisfaction told 
her not to look down on them now she had become so much 
the lady. She returned to Boulogne, spent another weary, 
monotonous year, and was again looking forward to going 
home. A week before the long-anticipated holiday she re- 
ceived a black-edged letter. Wonderingly enough she broke 
the seal, for the writing was unfamiliar. It was a kind, 
motherly letter from Mrs. Unwin, breaking as tenderly as 

G jible the sad news it contained. Mr. and Mrs. French 
died of cholera within three days of each other, and 
Mrs. Unwin begged of Harriet to come and stay with her 
until ever5dihing was settled. Her husband had undetaken 
the arrangement of all affairs. Harriet cried bitterly 
enough at the sad news, but she was not heart-broken. The 
long separation from her parents had softened the bitter- 
ness of the blow. She sat down and thought a long time 
about what she had best do, and finally decided that 
it would be more prudent to to remain where she was. 
The journey would be a great expense, she wrote, and she 
had no spare money. Would Mr. Unwin, as he had kindly 
proposed, arrange everything, and let her know if her poor 
father and mother had anything to leave her. Meantime 
she thanked Mrs. Unwin with all her heart for her great 
kindness. 

In due time the answer came. Everything had been 
done with the strictest regard to economy, but after all ex- 
penses were paid, only the small surplus of ten pounds re- 
mained. Mr. Unwin inclosed the first half of a bank-note, 
and promised the other should follow by the next post. 

Harriet French began to consider her plans. She was 
weary of the drudgery, the monotony of the foreign board- 
ing-school, and tried to think how she might best escape 
from it. Half of her money was already gone in buymg 
mourning, and the rest was saved in case of emergency. 
J ust at this time one of the young French girls took com- 
passion on her, and invited her to spend part of the holidays 


PROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


53 


at her home, some twenty miles distant. It was Mile. 
Clemence de Gamier, the most aristocratic and wealthy of 
Mme. Lemaire^s pupils. She was neither pretty nor amia- 
ble, but Harriet had studiously cultivated her during the 
twelve months they had been together, and performed 
many little gratuitous services for her, with a view to ulti- 
mate beneficial results. 

The visit to the Chateau Gamier was a wonderful change 
for the poor, forlorn girl— a glimpse of Paradise after her 
dull school-life. M. and Mme. de Gamier were well-bred, 
amiable people, and treated her with great kindness and 
consideration. At first she was terribly abashed and shy — 
it was the first time she had ever been under the same roof 
with a lady and gentleman; but by degrees their pleasant 
easy courtesy, made her feel more at home, and at last all 
mauvaise lionte was banished for good. But it was the 
young Baron de Gamier, the only son, who contributed 
most toward the happiness of her visit. He was always by 
her side: he flattered her, laughed with her, sat next her at 
dinner, and praised everything she did. The poor little 
ears, that had never heard the echo of a compliment before, 
drank in all the tender phrases with avidity, and believed 
them. The little friendless English girl was literally intox- 
icated with being made love to for the first time by a 
handsome young man. The bitterest tears she ever had 
shed in her life — more bitter by far than those which flowed 
for father or mother — were wrung from her in secret on the 
night she heard that the Baron de Gamier was betrothed to 
the heiress of the old Vicomte de Saint Mery. 


CHAPTER VII. 

LA VIE PARISIEHHE. 

Reputation is an idle and most false imposition; oft got without 
merit and lost without deserving; you have lost no reputation at all 
unless you repute yourself such a loser. — Othello. 

Harriet, or, as she now called herself, Henrietta, was 
just eighteen years old. She was not pretty, certainly, but 
still quite attractive enough to make the attentions of a 
young Frenchman decidedly empressees. She was rather 
small and slender, but possessed of a good figure and fair, 
abundant hair. Her nose was unmistakably retrousse, 


54 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


and her mouth wide; hut the latter was not of great im- 
portance, as her teeth were white and regular. The chief 
charm of her face lay in the expression, which at times 
lighted her up into absolute piquancy and prettiness. Now 
that she was at her ease she was very gay and amusing, 
and made them all laugh by her drolleries and quick wit. 
She was always cheerful, always good-tempered, always 
ready to oblige every one, and so, naturally enough, be- 
came a general favorite. She might have stayed on at the 
•Chateau Gamier until the end of the holidays, but that 
madame became uneasy at the increasing intimacy of her 
son and la petite Anglaise. Not uneasy on her son^s be- 
half, as an English mother might have been, for there was 
no fear in her mind that the Baron de Gamier would re- 
linquish an alliance with Mile, de Saint Mery in favor of 
the petite pensioyinaire. No! madame was a just woman; 
all her fears were for the girl. So, in spite of the entreaties 
of both son and daughter — despite her own and her hus- 
band^s pitiful feeling for the friendless stranger — she abso- 
lutely refused to extend her invitation over the limit that 
had at first been fixed. 

A Dieu ne plaise que cette pauvre orpheline ait jamais 
quelque motif de plainte centre notre fils,^'’ she said to M. de 
Gamier, when he interceded for Henrietta. 

So the girl went back from fairy-land to the dull, lonely 
French school in the white, hot, glaring Boulogne street. 
She took her leave quite cheerfully, and thanked every 
member of the family profusely for their kindness. Only, 
when her back was turned upon them, she gave vent to a 
flood of bitter tears, that were bursting her poor little 
chest. I omit the word heart advisedly. How blank her 
life seemed as she wandered up and down the deserted 
school-room, with its bare benches, contrasting everything 
painfully with the comfort and elegance she had le^f ! 
Fresh tears came with" every new memory. It increased 
her grief that her vivid imagination was able to recall every 
particular of the scene she had left. The stately white 
chateau, with its trim gardens and fine old trees, under 
which the baron had so often whispered to her that she 
was charming; the lofty rooms kept in cool shade by their 
blue Venetian blinds, and furnished so richly with damask 
and velvet, buhl cabinets, bronzes, and all manner of gild- 
ed toys. What a terrible contrast to the glaring walls here 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


55 


and the wretched bare benches and tables! There was but 
one thought that brought her any consolation — the baron 
had promised to come and see her — ^to meet her down by 
the sea-side on the following evening. It would not be 
difficult to keep the rendezvous; Mme. Lemaire was away 
on a visit, and, with the exception of two servants, Henri- 
etta was alone in the house. How she counted the hours 
until she could see him! No princely deliverer in a fairy- 
tale was ever more eagerly looked for than this young 
French baron, whose advent was to rive asunder the terri- 
ble chains of ennui. 

It was a hot August evening, the sun sinking slowly with 
fiery heat toward the glaring blue water, when Henrietta, 
having made her toilet with more than usual care, took her 
way down the Rue Napoleon to the sea. 

Her lover was awaiting her with some impatience. He 
came toward her and put his arm round her waist, but she 
drew back. 

Some one might see you,” she whispered, looking 
around her cautiously. 

‘^‘^Bah!” he answered, what does it matter?” 

A great deal to me,” laughed Henrietta. What if 
some kind friend .told Madame Lemaire that I had been 
seen in the embrace of a gentleman?” 

I would carry you out of her clutches at once,” said 
the baron. What say you, sweet little bird, would you 
come with me to Paris?” 

Henrietta shook her head. 

What would Mademoiselle Valentine de St. Mery say?” 

Morbleu! elle n^en saura rien.” 

Those words troubled Henrietta, but she only laughed. 
She had been meditating since yesterday whether it would 
be possible to shake M. de Garnier^s allegiance to his be- 
trothed, and induce him to marry her instead. 

How the young man would have laughed could he have 
divined her thoughts! Frenchmen are not apt to give up 
titled and dowered brides for a passing fancy. 

When Henrietta had met the baron twice, although he 
protested his devotion more ardently each time, she knew 
perfectly well that he had not the faintest idea of marry- 
ing her. It was rather a blow to her ambition — in fancy 
she had already heard herself styled Madame la Baronne. 

M, de Gamier began te talk to her about Paris,, the 


56 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


charming life people led in the gay city — a perfect heaven 
when compared with her dreary existence in the Boulogne 
school. 

Why should you go on living this wretched life simply 
for the sake of a miserable appearance of respectability?-’^ 
he said one evening. You who have no parents, no 
friends you care about — no one to please but yourself. 
Choose for yourself — be happy, lead a life worth living, in- 
stead of the existence of a snail, a tortoise. Come to Paris 
with me. You shall have everything your heart desires — 
your carriage, a delle toilette, servants, gayety, amusements 
of every kind. ” 

Henrietta repulsed the baron^s proposal with coldness at 
first. Although entirely devoid of religion or principle, 
she felt that such an offer degraded her, and resented it. 
But when Rene had absented himself for some days, and 
she felt more keenly than ever the loneliness and desolation 
of her position, she began to think of his words with less 
chagrin and anger. 

After all, what does it matter?” she thought, using his 
very argument. I have no parents, no friends — it mat- 
ters nothing to any one what becomes of me; so why should 
I not lead a pleasant life, instead of continuing in this mis- 
erable slavery?” 

Then Henrietta shut her eyes, and contrasted the two 
lives that were open to her choice. Fine clothes, money to 
spend, amusements of every kind, gay company, and good 
living on the one side — drudgery, weariness, poverty, and 
a thousand mortifications on the other. After all, was not 
virtue a chimera? For poor people at least? And hand- 
some Rene de Gamier was the only man who had ever cared 
for her! If she repulsed him, would she ever have another 
lover? 

When she met the baron again after some days, and he 
pressed the question, she yielded. He was in raptures — he 
would have had her start with him at once — that very hour. 

“You forget, monsieur,” she said, a little piqued; “ I 
must have some care for my reputation. ” 

“How?” exclaimed Rene, with a surprised smile. It 
seemed to him a work of supererogation for Henrietta to 
be thinking of her reputation, when she had consented to 
accompany him to Paris. 

“ Do you wish your mother and sister and Mademoiselle 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 57 

Valentine to know that we are together?’^ asked Henri- 
etta. 

Mo 71 Dieu, no!^^ answered the yonng man, naively. 

Nor I either/'’ remarked Henrietta. And Madame 
Lemaire must not suspect. " 

But what to do?’'’ cried K5ne, disconsolately. 

I must think to-night; and to-morrow meet me here at 
the same time, and I will tell you. ” 

The baron kept his appointment faithfully. 

‘^Well, little schemer,” he laughed, “what have you 
arranged?” 

“ I have arranged that you shall post this letter, or get 
it posted in Paris to-night, and then, perhaps ” — and she 
colored a little — “I may be ready to accompany you in five 
weeks'’ time. ” 

“Five weeks!” shouted Rene. “ Sacre mm de — 

Henrietta put her hand on his lips. 

“ Hush,” she whispered: “you must not talk so loud. 
Five weeks is not very long to wait,” she continued persua- 
sively. “You know you said yourself it would be very hot 
and unpleasant in Paris now. ” 

But we need not go to Paris yet,” urged M. de 
Gamier. 

“Five weeks will bring us to the beginning of October,” 
Henrietta continued, “ and if my plan succeeds, we shall 
escape suspicion entirely. Only be a little patient. ” 

“ If you loved me as much as I love you, you would not 
be so provokingly patient, my Henrietta,” murmured the 
baron. 

Perhaps I love you more,” and Henrietta looked up 
coquettishly. “ But, Rene, about this letter! Will you 
see that it is posted in Paris?” 

“ Y^es: but what is in it?” 

“I will tell you next time. Four evenings from this, at 
the same place.” 

“But, Henrietta, five weeks is such an age!” 

“ Monsieur le Baron !” said Henrietta, drawing herself up, 
and speaking imperiously, “ if you say any more, I shall 
make it three months. My agreement with Madame Le- 
maire is that there shall be a notice of three months on 
either side, at parting, and unless I can deceive her into 
letting me go before that time, I will wait the three 


58 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


months. I am determined that when I leave her no suspi- 
cion shall follow me. Will you take the letter or not?^^ 

Mais oui, ma helle/^ and Eene de Gamier put the 
missive into his pocket, and went off rather sulkily. 

Mme. Lemaire came home the next day. 

So you have returned, Mademoiselle she remarked. 

I hope you have conducted yourself with propriety on 
your visit. 

I trust so,^^ responded Henrietta, humbly. The 
clidteau was lovely, and everybody so kind."’"’ 

The following morning Mme. Lemaire came in to break- 
fast, holding a letter in her hand. 

^‘^For you, mademoiselle,^^ she said, giving it to Henri- 
etta. In a strange writing, and with a Paris postmark. 
I did not know you had friends there. ” 

Nor I, madame,^^ responded Henrietta, looking up in- 
nocently. She broke the seal, and read, while the school- 
mistress looked on. Surprise, emotion, pleasure, chased 
each other over the girPs features as she read. 

You have some news that astonishes you?” remarked 
madame, suspiciously. 

I have indeed, madame,” cried the ingenuous Henri- 
etta. Will you read it?” and she passed it over to the 
governess. 

Madame put on her spectacles and turned the letter over 
in her hand. 

Dieu! quelle Venture!’’ she exclaimed at last. Trans- 
late, if you please, mademoiselle,” and she passed' it back 
across the table. Henrietta obeyed, and read as follows: 

Peak Niece, — I hear that you are at a foreign board- 
ing-school, and that both your father and mother are dead. 
So much the better for you. Your father was my brother, 
and of course you have heard of me, though he had not 
seen me for twenty years. My companion is. going to leave 
me, because I intend to travel abroad, and she can not speak 
French. If you can come to me in five weeks to the day 
from this time, and are wHling to make yourself useful, I 
will give you a good salary, and perhaps, if you please me, 
provide handsomely for you. Unless you can come to me 
at the time I name, it will be no use, and you need not 
trouble to hold any further communication with me. 

Yours sincerely, Hahhah Stohe.” 


FllOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 59 

'^But that is a droll letter/^ cried Mme. Lemaire, as 
Henrietta concluded. ‘‘Oh! those bears of English!” 

“ I always heard my aunt was eccentric,” remarked Miss 
French, demurely. 

‘‘Mon Dieu I and that they call eccentric!” said madame, 
with a gesture of disgust. 

“ But she is so rich, madame! Ah! what an opportunity 
for me if I could but accept it!” 

“Go to an obstinate, brusque old woman. Bah! For 
what? To become ill-mannered and piggish, like your 
compatriots. ” 

“ If you could only let me go, madame,” said Henrietta, 
imploringly — “it might establish me for life.” 

“We shall see! — we shall see!” cried Mme. Lemaire, 
impatiently. “At present I know nothing.” 

But she was not an unkind woman in the main, and hav- 
ing turned the subject well over in her mind, she arrived 
by the evening at the conclusion that it would be unjust to 
spoil the poor English girFs prospects by insisting on the 
terms of the engagement. So when they met at supper 
she graciously accorde(^ Miss French permission to write 
and accept her aunt^s proposal. 

Henrietta was overjoyed at the success of her scheme, 
which she imparted to Bene when they met. 

“ W'hat a clever little head!” he said admiringly, strok- 
ing her hair and looking fondly at her. 

“ And now. Monsieur le Baron,” proceeded Henrietta, 
“ we must not meet again until we meet in Paris. ” And she 
turned away her head and dropped her voice to a whisper. 

M. de Gamier looked impatient. 

“ Why all these precautions?” he asked. 

“ They are necessary, indeed, Kene. Four weeks from 
to-day, write to me and tell me where I am to go, and put 
your letter into this envelope, and she gave him a direction 
in the fictitious writing of her aunt. “ To prevent acci- 
dents, you must write as if I were your niece, and sign your 
letter, ‘ Hannah Stone. ” 

“ Assuredly, little one. And now let me give you this 
piece of paper for the journey.” • 

Henrietta shrunk back. She felt it impossible to take 
his money. “ No, thank you,” she said, “ I have enough.” 

“ Aurevoir, then, dearest,” and he put his arms around 
her and kissed her several times. Then they parted. Two 


60 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


months later Henrietta was living in great style in Paris. 
She had an appartement meuhU close to the Champs Ely- 
sees, a brougham, and a footman. She was beautifully 
dressed, drove in the Bois, went to every place of amuse- 
ment, and enjoyed life thoroughly. She was admired and 
flattered; she spoke French like a Parisian, and conversed 
with a brilliant wit and piquancy that made her a great 
favorite with the young baron^s companions. 

A few months went on, and she began to feel a little 
anxious. Things were not going quite so smoothly, and 
there were evidences that M. de Gamier had not so much 
money at command as formerly. Her brougham and foot- 
man were sent away, and she was removed to a small hotel. 
She did not care for Rene de Gamier any longer — he was 
flckle and capricious, and more difficult to amuse every 
day. Besides, she had the uneasy consciousness that he 
was devoid of heart and principle, and would have no scru- 
ple in leaving her when he wearied of her. The blow she 
had long expected fell one February morning, as she sat 
trying to warm her feet hy the damp wood fire in her little 
room. The Baron de Gamier ei^tered with a nonchalant 
air, and an uneasy smile on his face. 

TienSy ma cliere,^ he said, lightly. I come to make 
my adieus. I have dispensed my last louis, and this charm- 
ing life of Paris costs dear. I go to play the role of Prod- 
igal Son to those good parents who will kill the fat calf to 
fete my return. I shall exact though that they prepare it 
in 2 b fricancleau. I leave thee this ring e7i souvenir; it has 
a certain value.” 

And Rene took from his finger a handsome stone, which 
he laid upon the table. A convulsive sob rose in Henri- 
etta's .throat as she half raised herself from the low fait- 
teuil. But she checked it and sat down again, knowing 
the nature of the man she had to deal with. 

Adieu, mon ami,” said, quietly, commanding her 
voice with an effort. Bon voyage,” and Rene de Gamier 
went out. 

, l am less certain of the events of Henrietta Frenches life 
during the next three months than of any other period. I 
have a sort of idea that for some time she stayed in a 
French Pension de Famille kept by a reduced baroness. 
But when 1 find her again, she is staying in a seventh-rate 
hotel in a back street leading out of the Rue St. Honore, 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


61 


and looks as if she had had an illness. Her hair is thin, 
and of a darkish hue, her skin looks sallow, and her teeth 
slightly discolored. On the day that she comes back into 
my story she was walking slowly up the Euc de Montaigne 
to the Champs Elysees. 

When she came to the Bound Point, and saw the little 
fountains plashing merrily in the sun, it seemed to revive 
her. She moved to take one of the chairs that stood under 
the shade of the young trees, but turned away suddenly, as 
if some thought had struck her. "^Bah!^"’ she said, "im- 
patiently, I am too near the end of my finances to throw 
way even two sous. And she sat down in the sun on one 
of the green iron benches devoted to the use of the general 
public. 

Uneasy thoughts came into her head; they had troubled 
her a good deal lately. There was an unpleasant proba- 
bility, all too near, that she might come to want, not the 
luxuries, but the necessities of life. 

Fifteen francs and a half," she murmured, and 
Bene^s ring. I wonder why I kept that, and sold all my 
other trinkets and effects, even to the very last little bit of 
lace. I never loved him — not really, at least — and I feel 
as if I hated him now. But I was prepared for his leaving 
me. I knew he would go the moment he tired of me, or 
his money ran. short. The only thing I never counted on 
was this horrible fdVer, that has robbed me of all my good 
looks!" And Henrietta clinched her little hands together, 
and bit her lips savagely. If I donT get some occupa- 
tion I shall starve — but after the life I have tasted, to go 
back to the horrible drudgery of teaching children!" and 
she groaned aloud. I must write to Madame Lemaire, 
and invent some story about my fictitious aunt — perhaps 
she may be able to get me a situation to teach French in 
an English family, or English in a French one. , She said 
I might refer to her if it became necessary. " 

Miss French^’s cogitations were suddenly cut short by a 
very British voice speaking close to her ear. JEss her 
V Omperoor est expecU ojerdtvee V’ 

Henriette turned round, and perceived a stout lady sitting 
beside her on the bench. 

I think so, madame," she said, politely. He generally 
passes about four o^clock. I believe he is going to St. Cloud 
to-day." 


62 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


It was a rule of Miss Frenches never to be ignorant on 
any subject. If she did not really possess information she 
invented it. 

Dear me!^^ said the stout lady, briskly — I thought you 
were French. Quite a pleasant surprise, I^m sure! My 
tongue can^t get accustomed to this foreign gibberish. Do 
you speak it?” 

Oh, yes,” said Henrietta, ingeniously; I have been in 
France nearly three years. I have had plenty of time to 
learn it, you see, madame,” and she smiled pleasantly and 
modestly at her new acquaintance. 


CHAPTER VHI. 

A PENSION DES DAMES.^^ 

La ruse est un talent naturel au sexe; et persuade que tons les 
penchants naturels sent bons et droits par eux-m^mes, je suis d’avis 
qii’on cultive celui-la comme les autres: il ne s’agit que d’en pre- 
venir Tabus. — J. J. Rousseau. 

Ih reading over the hasty sketch I have just given of 
Henrietta Frenches antecedents, a fear of having done her 
an involuntary injustice comes across me. It is true 
enough she was a girl devoid of much heart or principle, 
but it may be that in passing so hastily over the most im- 
portant part of her young life, without pausing well to con- 
sider the dreariness of her school existence, and the enor- 
mous temptation such a life as the Baron de Garniqr offered 
her presented, I may have led the reader to judge her more 
harshly than justly. It was not without great mental 
struggles that Henrietta chose the broad, flowery path. 
She knew right from wrong then; she had the power then 
that we all have at flrst, to choose between good and evil, 
only that we like to fancy we are not free agents when 
we have the guilty consciousness of having 3rielded to sin. 
Had I lingered to analyze the varying mfluences which at 
last caused her to succumb, I might have filled a volume 
instead of a couple of chapters, and that would have been 
contrary to my intention in writing the present story. 

This is the first and last apology that will be found in 
these pages for Henrietta French. If she was only weak 
in principle and wanting in heart before she left Boulogne 
with Rene de Gamier, she had fallen terribly in the moral 


FEOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


63 


scale when we find her sitting in the Champs Elysees, on 
the bright, warm May day. Perhaps circumstances had 
been hard upon her. At all events, they had produced the 
effect of hardening her heart, and making her feel terribly 
hitter toward the world. 

Now, to go on with n^ story. The conversation that 
took place between Henrietta and her new acquaintance 
was a somewhat lengthy one. Our little advent’ .ress made 
three discoveries in a marvelously short time- tuat the lady 
was rich, rather vulgar, and in search of a companion who 
was lively and spoke French. 

^^My fictitious aunt in ;pr opr ia persona,** thought Hen- 
rietta. Voyons! — perhaps we might suit each other.” 

My name is Fellows, said the stranger, and she looked 
at Henrietta, inquiringly, as though asking a reciprocal 
confidence. 

‘^Mine is French,” responded Henrietta; Henrietta 
French. ” 

Are you here with a family?” asked Mrs. Fellows. 

No, madame,^^ and Henrietta sighed in a manner that 
awakened the stranger^s curiosity. 

By yourself?” The tone was sharply interrogative. 

'‘Yes, madame,” with another sigh and a pause. 

Henrietta was thinking. 

" That^s odd,” said Mrs. Fellows. 

“ My circumstances are very unforrunate,” murmured 
Miss French, still collecting her thoughts. 

" Indeed ! Might I ask how?” 

"I do not like troubling you with my misfortunes,” 
Henrietta said, with hesitating timidity. 

" Oh, it wouldnT be troubling me in the least, ” replied 
the stranger, who had evidently an inquisitive turn of mind. 

" I was at school at Boulogne, madame,” began Henrietta, 
“ with Madame Lemaire. You may have heard of her?” 

" No,” said Mrs. Fellows. "I don^t know anybody at 
Boulong. ” 

"I was a pupil-teacher. My parents could not afford to 
pay much for my education. ” 

" What was your father, if I may ask?” 

There was another pause, another sigh. 

" My father was a gentleman, who spent all his money 
and married beneath him. ” 

" And your mother was — ” 


64 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADFS. 

A dress-maker, madame/^ And Henrietta blushed. 

Ah! I see,” said Mrs. Fellows. 

When I had been with Madame Lemaire nearly two 
years, I had a letter saying my parents had died of cholera 
within three days of each othej^;” and the speaker's voice 
trembled and there were tears in her eyes. 

Dear! dear!” ejaculated the listener, in a friendly voice. 

That was very sad.” 

I began to think how I should get my living. Two 
months passed, when, one morning Madame Lemaire came 
in, holding a letter, ^For you. Miss French,^ she said, giv- 
ing it to me. I was quite astonished, as I had no friends or 
relations to hear from. However, I opened it, and found 
it was from a sister of my poor father^s, of whom I had 
often heard him speak. She never noticed him after his 
marriage. I knew she was rich, and when I read in her 
letter that she offered to take me as companion if I could 
go to her in five weeks from that time, I thought what a 
great advantage it might, perhaps, be for me. But the 
terms of my agreement with Madame Lemaire w^ere, that 
there should be three months’ notice on either side before 
we parted. However, she was most kind, and when she 
read my aunt’s letter, said I might leave her at the end of 
five weeks, and join my aunt, Mrs. Stone, in Paris. But 
all this can not interest you, madame,” broke off Henrietta, 
suddenly, with the tact of a good story-teller. 

^^Oh! but it does, though, indeed,” exclaimed Mrs. Fel- 
lows, edging a little nearer. And so you went to your 
aunt, in Paris? Where was she stopping?” 

At the Hotel Westminster,” said Henrietta. 

And how did she receive you?” 

She was kind in her way, but very brusque and eccen- 
tric. She had a maid, and a white dog and a bull-finch. If 
the dog had been a child there could not have been more 
fuss made about it — indeed my aunt was quite a laughing- 
stock wherever she went. The maid was a very jealous, 
disagreeable woman. She took quite a dislike to me at 
once, and was always trying to set my aunt against me. ” 

And did she succeed?” asked Mrs. Fellows. 

Not at first, for I did all in my power to })lease her, 
and she seemed to like me; but afterward she grew very 
cold and suspicious, and dissatisfied with everything I did. 
That made me unhappy, because, in spite of her strange- 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


65 


ness, I liked her, and clung to her, feeling she was the only 
person I had in the world. 

^^Ah, of course — of course, said Mrs. Fellows, sympa- 
thetically. Did you travel about with her at all?^^ 

Miss French felt this question to be an awkward one. 

We went to Mentone hi October, madame,^^ she said. 

Oh, indeed,” cried the lady. Pray tell me all about 
it. I have a niece who is very delicate, and has been ad- 
vised to spend the winter there. ” 

Henrietta was at her wits^ end, but she answered calmly, 
after a moments pause: 

I am afraid I can not tell you very much, for as soon 
as we got there my aunt took a dislike to the place and in- 
sisted on returning at once to Paris. We had been back 
some time when one day my aunt sent me out with her 


dog. I carried him a lonj 
because he was so fat and 


j way, and then put him down 
leavy. But I kept hold of the 
blue ribbon that was fastened to his collar. Well, madame, 
I scarcely took my eyes off him until we came to the Rue 
Neuve des Capucines, where you know there is a lovely 
print-shop, and there I stopped a moment to look in. When 
I turned away the ribbon had been cut and the dog was 
gone! Fancy my terror — my agony! I ran hither and 
thither frantically, up and down the Rue de la Paix, across 
the Place Vendome to the Rue Castiglione, back to the 
Boulevard des Italiens, and up as far as the Rue Richelieu. 
A 8ergent de Ville stopped me, thinking I was crazy. At 
last I was forced to go home. I dreaded meeting my aunt, 
and trembled like a leaf. When I entered the room she 
cried out at once, ^ Where is my precious Flossy?'’ I could 
not speak. I showed her the cut ribbon, and she went off 
into strong hysterics. To make my story short, madame, 
my aunt refused to see me again, and sent twenty pounds 
by the maid as a remuneration for my services, ordering 
that I should leave the house that night, and never attempt 
to see her again. ” 

What an abominable shame!” said Mrs. Fellows. 

Making as much fuss over a wretched dog as if it had 
been a Christian. I call it downright wicked!” 

It was a bitter night in February,” proceeded Henri- 
etta, and I was forced to go to a small hotel near, until 
I could make up my mind what to do. I had only been 
there two days when 1 was attacked by a nervous fever, the 


66 


TEOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


result, I suppose, of the terrible mental anxiety I had 
undergone. I was ill for many weeks, and, as you see, 
madame, I have lost all my hair, and my complexion is 
gone. 

The tears that stood in the girFs eyes as she spoke were 
very genuine this time. 

Poor thing ejaculated her companion, 
have spent all my money but fifteen francs, and now 
that I am stronger I mean to write and ask Madame Le- 
maire to use her interest to get me a situation either as 
governess or companion. 

Mrs. Fellows looked at her watch. 

Dear me!” she said, rising, I promised to go out rid- 
ing in the Bois with a lady, and I^m afraid I shall be late. 
Perhaps you could call on me this evening? I think I 
know of some one who rather wants a companion, but it 
isnT at all sure, so donT set your heart upon it. Only if 
you like to take the chance, call at Number 17, Rue 

de and she mentioned a street leading out of the 

Champs Elysees. 

I am very grateful to you, madame,” said Henrietta, 
humbly. At what time shall I wait upon you?” 

“At half past eight, or a little later. We dine at six, 
and I always like to get my nap after dinner. ” 

Mrs. Fellows nodded good-humoredly, and hurried off. 

Miss French watched her until she was out of sight, and 
then leaned back on the bench, and laughed a hearty, 
genuine laugh. It seemed to do her good, and presently 
she gave vent to another burst of merriment. 

“ I did not know I had such an inventive genius. I 
ought to turn novelist. Mon Dieu ! but that was a good 
story of my aunt, and the maid, and the dog, and the 
Sergent de Ville. How it would have made De Gaillard 
laugh! He said I had a good head for plotting,” and she 
laughed again. 

“Mademoiselle amuse” said a fat, oily Frenchman, 
who had been walking past two or three times, watching 
her. 

“ Bien s'dr je amuse !” she answered, getting up and 
moving off briskly. “ It was rather awkward about Men- 
tone,” proceeded her thoughts, “but I can remedy that.” 
And with a smile on her lips she turned into a book, seller's 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


67 


shop in the Rue St. Honore, and emerged presently with a 
small paper-bound treatise on the wonderful air and climate 
of Mentone. ^^Now, madame,” she said to herself, ‘^‘we 
shall be able to give you all the information you desire. 

Walking along, Henrietta presently passed a restaurant. 
From the kitchen, which she saw through an iron grating, 
ascended a most savory smell. The cook and his myrmi- 
dons in white caps bustled about, hot, anxious, busy. She 
paused a moment to contemplate the great fire covered 
with stewpans and iron pots, and the clean yellow basins 
full of uncooked, fresh-looking spring vegetables. A dish 
of broiled salmon with some delicious sauce was just ready 
to be served, and next it were sweet-breads lying on a pile 
of smoking green pease. 

I shall dine to-day,^ she said to herself, with sudden 
resolution. My star is in the ascendant,'’^ and she walked 
into the restaurant, looked at the carte, and ordered soup, 
fish, entree salad, and a demi-bouteille of wine. 

She partook of the long-unaccustomed dainties with great 
relish. Once more^ regret came across her. It was when 
she tasted the Macon, and put down her glass with a wry 
face. By contrast it seemed to bring back the memory of 
the gay dinner-parties she had had with Rene (Je Gamier 
and his friends, when they had drunk the choicest wines 
and called for the most unseasonable dainties. 

‘'^Memory. is a bad companion for me,^^ she thought. 

Allans! taclions cVouUier/^ she went on eating her 
dinner philosophically. When it was finished she called for 
coffee, and began to consider her plan of action for the 
evening. It was not difficult, now that the way was paved 
so well. Then she payed for her luxurious repast, and 
walked home to the hotel in the Faubourg St. Honore. 
At a quarter to nine she presented herself at the house 
Mrs. Fellows had indicated^ and was ushered into the lady’s 
bedroom. 

Come in!' come in!” she cried, as Henrietta lingered 
modestly at the door. This is bedroom and sitting-room, 
as you may see, my dear — neither one thing nor the other. 
I’d much rather have a room that any one could see was a 
bedroom, with a good four-post bed in it, and jugs and ba- 
sins that one could wash in, than all these rubbisffing orna- 
mental places that shut up to hide what they’re meant for. 
And as to seeing your face in these fine glasses with gilt 


68 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


frames over the chimney-piece, why, you can^t, for the pal- 
try clocks and vases that are littered all over the place. 

Indeed, you are right, madame,^^ acquiesced Miss 
French. Ah! how you must miss the comforts of an En- 
glish home!^'’ 

Well, I do, in a way; but I haven^t a home just at 
pi’esent. And I must say I like the foreign living. The 
French do know how to cook. Ah, my dear, if they had 
only our materials!” And Mrs. Fellows heaved a sigh of 
genuine regret. I donT wonder a bit, though, at for- 
eigners looking so bilious, and having such complexions, 
with all the rich messes they eat. I^m sure it^s a mercy f or 
us English that there^s that Channel to cross, although it 
is so dreadful at the time. ” 

Henrietta laughed outright. 

And now. Miss French, to business, if you please,” 
said her patroness. I'^m in want of a companion myself, 
and I thought if it suited you, and I could get satisfactory 
references, we might come to terms. ” 

You are indeed good, madame,” cried Henrietta, en- 
thusiastically. Any terms you propose I shall gratefully 
accept.” 

^‘^Then I will write to-night to Madame Lemaire, and, 
if you like, you can inclose a note. Will you write it here?” 

If you please, madame.” 

And Miss French indited the following lines; — 

^^Dear Madame Lemaire, — I have had the misfort- 
une to offend my aunt, Mrs. Stone, for whom I left you by 
your kind permission in September last. Unhappily I lost 
her favorite dog, to which she was greatly attached, and 
she dismissed me at once, refusing to see me again. This 
happened in February, since when I have been ill. A lady 
whom I met this morning entertains some idea of engaging 
me as companion, should she be satisfied with the report 
you give of me. With a grateful remembrance of all your 
past kindness to me, I am, dear madame, sincerely and 
affectionately yours, 

Henrietta French.” 

She handed it to Mrs. Fellows. 

I have written in English, madame, that you may read 
before inclosing it.” 


PKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


69 


Oh, Fm not at all sus^cions/’ said Mrs. Fellows put- 
ting up her glasses and reading it. H^m! very well ex- 
pressed/^ she rem'arked. I shall make you write my let- 
ters for me, my dear, that is — 

If you engage me,^^ smiled Henrietta. 

Then Mrs. Fellows rang for her maid, sent for desk and 
spectacles, and wrote a lengthy missive to the mistress of 
the Boulogne boarding-school. 

The second day following, when Henrietta called in the 
Eue , she was received with open arms. 

A most satisfactory reply, my dear. Read it if you feel 
disposed. 

Miss French opened the letter, and made herself mistress of 
its contents, with a demure countenance and a strong secret 
inclination to laugh. The terms in which Mme. Lemaire 
spoke of her were eulogistic, and stress was laid on the fact 
of her being of a conduite very modest and proper." 

Then, Miss French, if convenient, I should hke you to 
join me to-morrow before dinner,*" said Mrs. Fellows. 

If you would allow me to have two or three days, 
madame," urged Henrietta, ^^to naake a' few additions to 
my wardrobe," and she looked down at her shabby black 
silk gown. 

^^Oh, certainly!" responded her patroness. 

'^But I understood you to say you had — " 

Spent all my money but fifteen francs. Yes, indeed, 
madame, that is quite true; but " — ^here Henrietta paused 
and colored a little — I have still a ring that belonged to 
my poor father. " 

Oh, dear, pray donT think of that — I should be quite 
distressed. I shall be very happy to advance you five 
pounds, if that is sufficient." 

Indeed, madame, I am sincerely thankful to you," 
murmured Miss French. It would have been a trial to 
me to part with the last souvenir of my dear parents." 

And Henrietta went off in great glee, which she had some 
difficulty in suppressing. 

She bent her steps toward a certain by-street, where she 
had piece by piece disposed of all her effects and valuables, 
and produced M. de Gamier^s ring for sale. ^ The man 
offered her ten Napoleons for it — not quite half its value. 

I will take twelve and this ring,^^ said^ Miss French, 
looking at a curious, old-fashioned stone set in thin washed- 


70 


PEOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


out gold. After a good deal of haggling, she left the shop 
with eleven Napoleons and the ring. 

^'Now, madame," she said to herself, smiling, ^^if you 
should ever have any curiosity to see my family relic, I can 
gratify it.^^ 

Then she proceeded to make her purchases. On the 
third day she joined Mrs. Fellows, neatly, not to say dow- 
dily attired, with a demure visage and humble manner. 
Few people would have recognized in her the magnificently 
dressed lady of disdainful mien, who, six months ago, 
might have been seen alighting from her stylish brougham 
at some of the principal cafh in the new Boulevards, or the 
Palais Royal. But I am lingering too much over details. 

On the third day Henrietta joined Mrs. Fellows. They 
left Paris for Switzerland, where they remained sometime, 
and then returned by way of the Rhine. Henrietta enjoyed 
traveling, and, on the whole, was tolerably happy. She 
made herself very agreeable to her companion, and, being 
good-tempered, bore the varieties and caprices of that lady^s 
humors with equanimity. One day an incident happened 
to her. She was 'on board a Rhine steamer, looking list- 
lessly at the perpetually recurring mountain, topped by a 
ruined castle, with stiff, stereotyped vineyards beneath, 
when a familiar voice sounded in her ear. 

Je vous salue, madame. Oh est done ce clier Baron? " 

Miss French looked up terrified. It was the young Baron 
de Gaillard, a former friend of Renews. 

Everything is changed, she whispered, leaning toward 
him. I am traveling companion to an old woman. Pre- 
tend to have mistaken me for some one else." 

De Gaillard took the hint at once. 

Ibeg you a thousand pardons,” madame, he said aloud, 
in broken English. I believed to speak with Madame de 
Vauban,” and with a profound bow he walked off. 

What did that man want?” asked Mrs. Fellows, beck- 
oning to Henrietta. 

He mistook me for some person of his acquaintance, I 
think. ” 

Nothing but a pretense for speaking to you, I dare say,” 
said Mrs. Fellows, snappishly. Just like those impudent 
foreigners. I saw him looking at you and laughing, and 
whispering to another monkey-faced creature. ” 


FEOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 71 

This little incident gave Henrietta a fright, and she took 
to wearing a thick veil. 

I don^t think Miss French need be so overparticular 
about her complexion, sneered the maid, who was rather 
jealous, to her mistress. 

^^It isn^t much to spoil, certainly, ^Maughed the lady, 
looking complacently in the glass. She had rather a fresh- 
looking skin herself. 

After four months^ absence, Mrs. Fellows and her com- 
panion returned to Paris, en route for England. It was 
with a glad feeling that Henrietta came back into the brill- 
iant city where she had enjoyed and suffered so much. 
After the dreary, honest Swiss and German towns, it seem- 
ed a perfect paradise, with its life and gayety, its noise and 
brightness. Tired as she was with a tedious journey in a 
stopping train, an interminable waiting in a kind of sheep- 
pen for luggage, and the supervision of ransacked boxes at 
the Douane, there was a feeling of vivid relief as she drove 
through the gas-lighted streets and along the busy Boule- 
vards in the lumbering fiacre, with its two stunted white 
horses. The white and gold-painted cafh, with their store 
of shimmering glasses, the cliarcuterie shops filled with 
round, tempting hams, tongues, and hceuf a la mode, the 
pdtisseries and confiteries, all the allurements for the in- 
ner and the outer man exposed in the most enticing forms; 
the laughing women in their clean white caps; everything 
struck her with a pleasant kind of familiarity — a sort of 
half-estranged, half -forgotten memory of a happy bygone 
time. 

A month went by, and Henrietta, instead of feeling more 
settled and resigned to her mode of life, began to be tort- 
ured by it. Just at first she had been so thankful for the 
good fortune that had come to her when’ she had been an- 
ticipating all manner of horrors, that it had hardly oc- 
curred to her to feel much regret for the brilliant, delight- 
ful past. Now that her circumstances were easy and< 
comfortable, that she was well fed and clothed, with no 
present cares, her mind reverted with ardent longing and 
suffering desire to the gay, thoughtless, abandoned past. 

Certainly this was a hard change, a lugubrious monot- 
ony to a woman who had once tasted Paris life with the 
society of young, handsome, well-bred men. Then she 
had feted, caressed, flattered; now she was living day 


72 


FEOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


after day in the same wearisome routine among women 
who were plain, not too refined, and who snubbed and de- 
spised her. 

Bernard de Moyse used to say all women were lovely 
and angelic, reflected Henrietta. 

Bon Dieu ! he never glanced into a Pension de Dames! 
By what force of gravitation are all these horrible, scandal- 
ous old maids and widows brought together How is it 
they all know the family secrets of every one they meet, 
and have such an intimate knowledge of the sayings and 
doings of the aristocracy and royal family? I defy any one 
to bring up a subject they are not better acquainted with 
than the person who started it. I dare say if I took it into 
my head to give them a few scenes de la vie Parisienne, 
they^d be better informed than themselves.” And made- 
moiselle laughed harshly. Did ever any man in the 
world care for those old maids? If so, what was he like? 
Did he wear blue spectacles and take snuff? Do they really 
despise matrimony? If so, why do they glance so eagerly 
at the fourth finger of every new-comer^s left hand? Gh! 
how I hate them all!” cried Miss French, in an access of 
impotent anger: and especially that odious Miss Smith- 
son, with the red hair. How she would rejoice to find out 
something about me!” 

That evening, as Mrs. Fellows and her companion were 
sitting in the drawing-room after dinner, the lady in ques- 
tion had fixed her eyes penetratingly .on Henrietta. 

^‘1 am quite sure I have seen you somewhere before,” 
she^said, with a grim smile. 

Very probably,-” rejoined Miss French, simply. 

But here in Paris,” urged Miss Smithson. 

I was here all last winter,” remarked Henrietta, im- 
perturbably. 

And you drove in the Bois in a brougham, with a little 
white dog.” 

Yes,” assented Henrietta. 

Miss Smithson began to be puzzled. 

Only your hair was much lighter, and very frizzy; and 
you were with a dark young man.” 

The last remark was made with a certain venom and an 
increase of tone that made it audible to every one in the 
room. Mrs. Fellows pricked up her ears. 

Miss French looked up with an innocent smile. 


PEOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


73 


My hair was certainly lighter than it is now, and very 
abundant. It is so disagreeable to lose one's hair, is it not?" 
and she cast a sympathizing glance at her interlocutor's 
head, which was nearly bald. ^^Fortunately my eyesight 
has not suffered, as I fear yours must have done, madame, 
before you could mistake my poor gray old aunt for a dark 
young man." 

And here Henrietta laughed with such natural, childish 
amusement, that every one joined, and Miss Smithson was 
furious. 

couldn't have been mistaken," she said, sharply; 
the girl was the very image of you, only she was dressed 
more like a mistress than a companion/^ here Miss Smith- 
son sniggered, to give point to the joke, ^^and there was a 
coronet on the panel of the carriage. " 

Thank you, madame," laughed Henrietta. Your 
conclusion is quite convincing. My aunt is of a highly re- 
spectable family, but I can answer for the poor soul, she 
never pretended to any higher social position than was law- 
fully her own," and this time it was the little adventuress's 
turn to shoot a Parthian glance at her tormentor. For 
every new-comer learned, quite privately and confidentially, 
from one of the old habituees, that Miss Smithson's father 
had kept a tallow-chandler's shop in Holbom. 


CHAPTER IX. 

THE PKICE OF IMPRUDENCE. 

Be wakeful, be vigilant; 

Danger may be 
At an hour when all seemeth 
Securest to thee. 

Mrs. Southey. 

One October day the climax came to Henrietta's weari- 
ness and depression. Mrs. Fellows, having a headache, was 
extremely irritable; the maid had been insolent; Miss 
Smithson had snubbed her more rudely than ever. She 
had not been out all the day — Mrs. Fellows required letters 
to be written and accounts made up, and had lost her tem- 
per considerably over them. After dinner, as it was chilly, 
a fire was lighted in the drawing-room, and all the ladies 
drew their chairs round the bright, crackling logs piled up 


74 


FEOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


on the stone hearth. The little companion was quite shut 
out — no one offered to make room for her. A feeling of 
loneliness and despondency, that had been growing all day, 
leaped up suddenly in her heart, and made her run up to 
her own room, locking herself in. Then a torrent of sobs 
shook her breast, and deep-drawn, convulsive sighs escaped 
her. When people cry very rarely, the fit is always more 
severe than with those who are of a lachrymose tendency. 

Q'ue fais-je dans cette galhreV^ she cried to herself 
bitterly. This life will drive me mad in a little time. 
My God! what have I done to deserve such a wretched 
fate? To have lost all my good looks; to be the slave of a 
vulgar, uneducated woman; not to have body, soul, or 
mind of my own!” 

Henrietta stopped suddenly in the midst of a furious 
pacing up and down, and looked at herself in the gilt- 
framed glass. A short sob of wrath and pain rose in her 
throat as she saw the refiection of her face. Her eyes were 
red-rimmed and swollen, her cheeks ashy pale, and the hair 
that had been so luxuriant was scanty and but thinly cov- 
ered the top of her head. 

^^You are hideous, frightful, detestable she cried, 
clinching her hands and glaring savagely at the httle figure 
in the glass, which gave back look for look. Then she 
threw herself on the ground, crying and moaning bitterly. 

After being feted, flattered, and caressed — after living in 
splendor and luxury, never denying myself anything — after 
mixing with the gayest, wittiest men in Paris, to come down 
to this dog^s life!^^ ran Henrietta^’s thoughts. ^‘1 could 
have borne suft'ering, want, privations, anything better than 
this desolating life of dull respectability amongst these 
frightful mascuhne ogresses, who never can have known 
Avhat it was to be loved and flattered by handsome men. I 
have had the advantage of them there, although they de- 
spise me. so supremely?^ and Miss Frenches eyes glittered 
vindictively. Presently she left off crying and got up from 
the floor. I am a'fool,^^ she said, to give way hke this. 
I will go out and breathe a little air and look at the shops. ” 
She tied on her bonnet and went softly down-stairs. If 
the old woman is angry, she can scold me to her hearths 
content when Pcome back. I shall be able to bear any- 
thing then.” 

Out she went, past the concierge, who looked up sur- 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


75 


? rised as she flitted by, and into the narrow paved street. 

'he first breath of air seemed to make her heart grow 
lighter. As she walked on her spirits rose and rose till she 
felt quite gay. 

What idiots people are to sit and mope at home, and 
fancy all sorts of troubles and miseries, she reflected, 
when they can get rid of them all by a turn in the fresh 
air! No wonder the English suffer from spleen when they 
never stir out from the domestic hearth, of which they are 
so ridiculously proud. If they could go and sit outside a 
cafe, and take their tea or coffee, instead of remaining all 
the evening in the same hot, relaxing atmosphere. Ah, 
then the chmate- wouldn^t suit, though, and there are no 
boulevards! Fancy sitting out in Eegent Street, or Oxford 
Street, or Piccadilly, or, better still, the Strand!” 

Miss Erench was • so taken up with her own thoughts 
that a circumstance escaped her notice which it would have 
been well for her to observe. A woman, coming out of a pho- 
tograph shop, pushed against her; but she passed on without 
looking round — not so the woman, who stood still and 
stared after her. 

Why, I declare, if it isn^t Miss Erench!” she exclaimed. 
I wonder what she is doing out this time of night? I 
don^t suppose mistress sent her — I dare say she don^t know 
she^s out. 1^11 just go after her a little way.” 

And Martin, Mrs. Eellows^’s maid, followed Henrietta, 
who presently turned out of the Eue du Eaubourg St. 
Honore, crossed over the Place de la Madeleine, and went 
up the Boulevards. She sf)pped to look in at the splendid 
display of Lyons silks, then, a little further up, at a Mag- 
azin de Dentelles, then in at a jeweler^s, and finally she 
stood a long time before a beautifully decorated, gayly 
lighted shop, with its windows piled up with tempting bon- 
bons and all manner of delicious confiteries. 

Mon Dieu, Oscar, voila la petite laonner I” cried a 
gay voice close to Henrietta's ear; and, turning quickly, 
she recognized two young men, with whom she and Eene 
had been very intimate some twelve months before. Now 
that no fear of danger was before her eyes, she greeted 
them with glad familiarity. They saw she had grown 
plain, and was poorly dressed, and had tact enough not to 
mention M. de Garnier. 


76 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


Come and have some ices^^^ they said^ and she assented 
wilhngly enough. 

Martinis hair stood on end with virtuous indignation as 
she witnessed the greeting between Miss French and the 
two young Parisian dandies, and finally saw her enter one 
of the brilliant cafes in their company. 

I always thought she was no better than she should be,” 
muttered the maid, venomously — only that she was too 
ugly.” 

She peered about a long time, trying to see what had be- 
come of the party she was spying. At last they appeared 
in a little room on the first floor, fitted up with red and 
gold, and a quantity of looking-glass. Martin could hear 
their gay laughter, and took particular notice of the young 
men^s familiarity of manner to her mistresses companion. 
Then — oh, horror! — entered a waiter with a bottle of cham- 
pagne, tall shining glasses, and a whole tray of all manner 
of cakes and sweatmeats. After about half an hour, she 
saw Miss French rise hastily, as if to go, and one of the 
young men put his arm round her waist and pulled her 
back into her chair. She made no resistance — only laughed, 
and said something in his ear. Then he took her face be- 
tween his two hands and kissed her, and finally they all de- 
scended the stairs together, laughing gleefully. 

Ah, my lady, Idl soon spoil sport!” hissed Martin, 
spitefully planting herself in the door-way as Henrietta came 
out. The girl would have passed without seeing her, but 
she tapped her on the shoulder: ^^My mistress sent me to 
look for you, miss; I have been waiting outside here the 
best part of an hour;” 

Oscar Menard, who was by Henrietta’s side, saw a sud- 
den dismayed pallor come across her face, and felt her lean 
her hand heavily on his arm. He divined at once an un- 
pleasant rencontre. 

Are you going home to-night, miss, or are you going 
to stop with these gentleman?” said the inaid, insolently. 
You need not wait,” returned Miss French, haughtily. 


recovering herself. I am engaged at present. Tell your 
mistress I shall be home in half an hour. ” 

And Martin went off in great haste to relate the whole 
story, Yvith embellishment, to Mrs. Fellows. 

Henrietta dropped down on one of the httle iron-work 
chairs outside the cafe, leaning her arms on the round 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 77 

marble table. For a moment she concealed her face in her 
hands. 

Voila une affaire /” whispered Achille to Oscar;’ and 
I am ashamed to record that they linked arms and walked 
off down the Rue Vivienne without another word to the 
poor little companion. When Henrietta looked up they 
were gone. 

That is like Frenchmen/^ she said, bitterly. Then she 
rose and went slowly on her way home. She knew per- 
fectly well what she had to expect. She knew, too, that it 
was worse than useless to attempt any denial of the un- 
fortunate events of the evening. Still she must have some 
explanation to give. W^ith a sinking heart she entered the 
bedroom and found mistress and maid tete-a-tete. 

^^Well, Miss French, continued Mrs. Fellows, in a 
freezing tone. May I ask what you have to say for your- 
self.^^^^ 

I have to apologize for leaving the house without first 
asking your permission, madame,^^ said Henrietta, submis- 
sively; but my head ached, and I thought you would ex- 
cuse me."*^ 

Champagne is a singular cure for the headache," 
sneered Mrs. Fellows. Then with a sudden access of wrath, 
she cried, How dare you come to me under false pre- 
tenses, and pass yourself off for a respectable woman! 
How dare you, being with me as a hired companion, con- 
duct yourself in the public streets with’ such gross impro- 
priety!" repeated Mrs. Fellows, evidently pleased with the 
expression. 

Your words insult me, madame," said Henrietta, in a 
firm, but deprecating tone. 

Insult you, do they?" cried her patroness, with rising 
color; insult you, indeed, you bad, brazen-faced girl! 
After drinking champagne, and* exchanging familiarities 
too disgusting to mention, with a set of dissipated young 
foreigners, donT pretend that an3rthing that can be said to 
you %• a virtuous woman can insult you. " 

You have been misinformed, madame," stammered 
Henrietta. 

Oh, no, miss, nothing of the sort!" cried Martin, spite- 
fully. 

I met, by accident, some young men whom I knew for- 


78 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


merly when with my aunt/^ said Miss French, not noticing 
her remark. 

Save yourself the trouble of inventing any more lies, if 
you please,” said Mrs. Fellows, severely. Now I can 
guess why you had to leave your aunt at a moment^s notice. 
I thought at the time it was a very cock-and-bull story 
about the dog. / shall not turn you out of the house to- 
night, although you well deserve it; indeed, it is an insult 
to the virtuous ladies here that you sleep another night 
under the same roof with them. But to-morrow morning, 
before nine o^clock, you will have the goodness to leave the 
house without holding any communication whatever with 
me. I shall send you what money is due fo you before that 
time. ” 

But, madame!” began Henrietta; protest!” 

Not another word,” shrieked Mrs. Fellows, or 1 de- 
nounce you to-night before the whole household. ” 

Miss French felt the utter inutility of further remark, 
and went at once to her own room. There was no question 
of going to bed or sleep for hours to come. She had to 
form her plans, and pack her boxes, for she never dreamed 
of making any appeal from her sentence. She sat down on 
her bare little iron bedstead, putting her hand to her head. 
It felt bewildered, strange, incapable of realizing the events 
of the evening. The various sensations of the day seemed 
to wander confusedly across her brain, the dullness, the 
burst of despair, the sudden flash of excited gayety, and 
then the quick following panic of terror at finding herself 
discovered. She sat looking stupidly and vacantly before 
her, seeing nothing except that the quilt had a small dia- 
mond pattern on it, and that a piece of paper had been torn 
off the wall. A waltz tune she had heard one of the little 
dirty Paris gamins singing that night, rang in her ears — 
over and over and over again — the same monotonous bars 
breaking off at the self-same place where she had forgotten 
the end of the tune. 

After a long time she seemed to wake up suddenly. 

What a fool I was,” she cried, with a sudden burst of tem- 

E er, to forget my r6le even for one hour I What business 
ave poor, dependent wretches like me to feel dull and 
tired, and to long for a little excitement? Why donT we 
go on plod, plod, plod, like the poor old pack-horse, until 
one day we drop down dead, and beating is no more use? 


FEOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


79 


What a hateful, miserable, unfair world this is! There is 
nothing but wretchedness and injustice, want, poverty and 
misery for the common lot; and for just a favored few, 
luxury, beauty, happiness and pleasure. Oh, how I hate 
the world ! — how I wish I was dead 1^’ and Henrietta stamped 
and bit her fingers till there were great broad marks of her 
teeth in them. Presently her rage subsided, and she began 
to think about the future. 

It's no use my staying i?i Paris any longer," she said to 
herself; even if I got another place, I shouldn't be able 
to keep it for these old harpies.^ Ah! what a treat they 
have in store for them to-morrow! Won't my poor charac- 
ter be torn to rags and shreds by the spiteful old hags? 
Didn't they always think there was ^a something about 
me '? and won't that old wretch Smithson have her stories 
about my dog, and my brougham, and the ^ dark young 
man! ' I think I'll go and pay the old school at Boulogne 
a visit. Madame Lemaire will be glad enough to have me 
when she finds I've a little money. Mrs. Fellows can't write 
to her, thank goodness, for she tore up the address ages 
ago. Only I must get up a new story. What on earth shall 
I say this time?" and Miss French sat down again with calm- 
ness to think. 

The day but one following found her on the platform of 
tke Chemin de Fer du Nord. 

^^Here is the ladies' carriage, miss," cried a polite guard, 
opening the officiously. 

‘"’Mon DieuV* said Henrietta; ^^I've had enough of 
danvis seules lately, to last me all the rest of my life. " 

Th^. man stared after her and laughed. 

I'«, ma coquette !” he remarked, in an under-tone. 

Gheiche le coupe qui te plait !” 

Henretta glanced in at all the carriages, and finally en- 
tered om where sat a gentleman, a good-looking, middle- 
aged lad;^, and two fresh, young, pretty girls. She was 
rather sh} and reticent at first, but when one of the girls 
spoke pleasantly to her, she responded, and after a little 
while the conversation became general. The gentleman 
did not belong to the same party. Miss French found. The 
lady and her daughters had been a fortnight in Paris, and 
were going to stay a few days at Boulogne on their way to 
England. Tley had seen all the sights, Henrietta politely 
surmised. 


80 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


Oh, yes, everything. They had been to the Louvre, and 
the Luxembourg, and Notre Dame, and the Pantheon, and 
the Invalides, the Expiatoire, the Madeleine, and all the 
churches; and the Tuileries, the Palais de Justice, and the 
Bourse. Did any one ever hear such a fearful yelling and 
shrieking as the French stock-holders made? WasnT it just 
like the lions at feeding-time? Oh, and they had been to 
the Jardin des Plantes, but they didnT like it half so well 
as the Zoological Gardens. And they had been in the Bois 
and seen the emperor and empress, and wasnT the em- 
press lovely? — and did Henrietta know who that beautiful 
lady was who had the postilions with green satin jackets? 
And then they had been to Versailles and Fontainebleau, 
and they would so have liked to seen the fountains at Ver- 
sailles, only it was on Sunday, and mamma did not like to 
go. And they saw St. Cloud and the cemetery where Abe- 
lard and Heloise were buried; and they had bought such 
lovely bonnets. When papa was there he had taken them 
to the opera and two or three theaters; and they would 
have enjoyed it very much, only they didnT understand it 
quite. 

Henrietta looked at these fresh blooming young girls, 
and envied them. Not unkindly, but she thought how she 
would like to have a fair young face, and a great capability 
of enjoyment, and all the world before her, as they had, 
By the side of them she felt so old, so withered, so world- 
worn, although she was not yet twenty. When they hid 
told her all about themselves, with the innocent egotisnj of 
young people, they began to question her a little sWy 
about herself. She answered frankly enough. Sh^had 
just left a lady with whom she had had a six month/ en- 
gagement as traveling companion, and was going to pay a 
visit to the school where she had been educated, previous to 
seeking another situation in England. Then the mamma 
began to talk to her in a kind, pleasant manner; pd Miss 
French, finding her listener interested, went on m tell the 
sad story of her life — her father^s mesalliance, Ms and her 
mother^s death, her aunt^s dismissal of her, hemlness and 
temporary engagement with Mrs. Fellows, Aer present 
friendless position and sense of desolation. Site shed a few 
tears, and the girls were dreadfully affected /nd cried for 
sympathy. When they parted, the mothe/ Mrs. John- 
stone, shook hands very kindly with her, /asking her to 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


81 


come and see them the next day. Do come/"’ said the 
girls, squeezing her hand, and she thanked them and 
promised. 

Madame Lemaire received her politely, indeed cordially, 
when she found her ex-teacher had some money and would 
pay for her board. The explanation was quite satisfactory. 
Miss French exhibited a kind letter from Mrs. Fellows, 
speaking in high terms of her late companion's amiability, 
usefulness, and thorough knowledge of French. She wrote 
this recommendation, as her movements were so uncertain 
she could give no positive address. 

Henrietta called on Mrs. Johnstone, dined with her, and 
was with the family constantly for five days. ' At the end 
of that time Mrs. Johnstone offered her a situation as com- 
panion to her daughters; to assist them in their studies, and 
to speak French constantly with them. Our little advent- 
uress gladly accepted the pleasant sinecure that was offered 
• her, and went back with the Johnstones the next day to 
their handsome, comfortable house in Kent. 

There she lived for three years happily enough. The 
girls were lovable and very fond of her, and she did her best 
to secure and retain their affection. She had the confidence 
of Mr. and Mrs. J ohnstone, and she certainly did not abuse 
it in any way. Then, just as the family seemed at the 
zenith of prosperity and happiness, ruin and misfortune 
came. The father was on the Stock Exchange. He specu- 
lated — a panic came, and he was reduced almost to beg- 
gary. The eldest daughter had been engaged to a hand- 
some young lawyer. When the crisis came he turned his 
attentions elsewhere, and left poor little Cissie Johnstone 
with a broken heart. Henrietta would have stayed with 
them in their trouble (she was not altogether ungrateful), 
for a time at least, but they would not hear of it. Besides, 
the poor little petted girls had to go out as governesses 
themselves. So Miss French sorrowfully sought in the 
Times '’^ newspaper for another situation. Mrs. John- 
stone gave her the highest recommendation, and she en- 
tered the family of Mrs. Thomas Slater of Laurel Villa, as 
governess to two charming little girls and an equally amia- 
ble little boy. We have already seen her in the discharge 
of her easy and pleasant duties. 


82 


PEOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


CHAPTER X. 

THE MOTHEK OF INVENTION. 

Character is what nature has engraven on us; can we then 
efface it?— Voltaike. 

Having brought the leading events of Henrietta's life 
before you (for which I doubt she would much thank me), 

I come back to her where she sits weaving a fresh plot for 
the advancement of her comfort and social status. Reflect- 
ing upon the advertisement, she had pronounced in her 
own mind that the services of the desired companion would 
probably be required at once, and furthermore that the ad- 
vertiser, if a person of the position she imagined him, would 
not think favorably of a candidate who occupied the post 
of governess to Mrs. Slater ^s children. Here, then, were • 
two difiiculties to be provided against. She took out her 
desk, and began to write in a bold, legible hand a copy 
from a draft already prepared. 

^^Miss French, in answer to an advertisement in the 
‘ Times ^ of to-day, offers herself as candidate for the post 
described by C. A. She is a thorough French scholar, 
having lived some years in Boulogne and Paris, and is dis- 
posed to make herself agreeable in whatever way her serv- 
ices may be required.. Her age is twenty-four, and, until 
quite recently, she has lived in the family of Mrs. John- 
stone, in Kent, as companion to two young ladies. " 

Having completed the first note, she commenced another: 

My deae Mrs. Johnstone, — I am very much dissatis- 
fied with my present position as governess. The children 
are rude and intractable, and require the most constant and 
arduous supervision. Ah! how different is the life I now 
lead from the happy days spent with you and dear Cissie 
and Edie! For how much alleviation of my lonely, dreary 
lot I have to thank you all ! There is some slight chance 
of my getting a very much pleasanter occupation than this, 
through the interests of a lady whom I knew many years 
ago, and who wrote to me a few days since, having taken 
some trouble to ascertain my whereabouts. A gentleman. 


PEOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


83 


with whom she is slightly acquainted, desires a companion 
for his only daughter; the duties would be light and pleas- 
ant. She recommends my saying nothing about my pres- 
ent engagement, but suggests I should refer him to you. 
I know I may rely on your kindness to speak as favorably 
as possible in my behalf, should he apply to you. ” 

Then followed a couple of pages on family affairs, which 
have no concern in this story. 

Having completed her letters, Henrietta went out and 
posted them carefully. She awaited an answer with some 
eagerness. It came the following evening: 

Mr. Anson presents his compliments to Miss French, 
and will he glad to have an interview with her to-morrow 
between twelve and one o^clock. ” 

^^Good!” said Henrietta to herself, with a smile. 

Then she tripped lightly down the stairs to the dining- 
room, where she found Mrs. Slater. That lady started 
violently at the sound of the opening door, and proceeded 
to arrange her cap and dress with a view to dismiss all 
suspicions of a post-prandial nap from the mind of the m- 
t ruder. 

Oh, is it you?” she answered peevishly, on seeing how 
unfounded W'as her vague alarm of visitors. 

Yes, madame,” responded Henrietta, meekly. I am 
afraid I disturbed you. ” 

‘‘^Oh, I wasnT asleep,” said Mrs. Slater, in not the most 
amiable tone. I always like to have a little time to my- 
self after dinner for reflection.” 

Ah! yes,” replied Miss French, sympathetically; ^^and 
you have so much to occupy you all day, it is quite a shame 
to disturb you. I will come again in an hour.” 

Oh, if youVe anything to say, you^d better say it at 
once,” was the ungracious rejoinder. 

I wanted to ask you if you can spare me for an hour 
or two to-morrow, to see a friend who has unexpectedly 
come to London?” 

To-morrow?” said Mrs. Slater, in a tone that evidently 
meant, You could not possibly have picked out a more 
inconvenient day. ” 

If you please, madame,” answered the little governess 
firmly, not choosing to take a hint. 


84 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


very inconvenient. Won^t any other day do?” 
am afraid not.” 

Then I suppose you must go, if it^s very particular,” 
frowned Mrs. Slater, and Henrietta said, Thank you,” 
and left the room, knowing quite well that there was noth- 
ing more than usual to keep her at home but her patronesses 
temper. 

The following morning, punctually at twelve oedock, she 
presented herself at Olaridgees, and was shown into a small 
sitting-room, where a gentleman was reading the Times ” 
near the window^ He laid the paper aside and rose, bow- 
ing courteously as she entered. With one quick glance 
Henrietta . remarked that he was a man of about fifty, 
rather handsome, and with an unmistakable air of breed- 
ing. 

Pray be seated,” he said, offering her a chair, and re- 
suming his own. London is intolerable just now, is it 
not?” 

I dare say you find it so,^^ she said, smiling; and with 
a certain air of modest shyness. But it is always a treat 
to me to come to London. Of course, in my position, it 
makes no difference whether it is the season or not. ” 

Plain little body, but sensible,” refiected Mr. Anson. 

^^What a weak mouth he has!” thought Henrietta. 
'^HeM be a capital subject for a woman to fiatter.” 

Mr. Anson smiled pleasantly. 

You received my note?” he asked. 

^^By the last post yesterday evening,” Henrietta answer- 
ed. And I came this morning in the hope of being a 
successful candidate for the post offered in your advertise- 
ment. ” 

^^You are now companion to some young ladies, I 
think?” remarked Mr. Anson. 

Not at the present moment. I lived for three years 
in a family to whom I owe the greatest kindness. The 
father unfortunately failed in business, and I was forced — 
sorely against my will — to leave them. For the last two 
months I have been acting in the capacity of governess for 
a friend who is in delicate health, but this temporary en- 
gagement will be concluded in a month^s time from the 
present. ” 

'"Ah!” said Mr. Anson, and then there was a moment^s 
pause. "My daughter,” he resumed, "is grown up and 


FEOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


85 


requires no tuition of any kind. All she wants is some 
yoimg lady, cheerful and good-tempered, who will occasion- 
ally accompany her in her walks and drives, and — ^that 
is — 

think I understand you perfectly, sir. Your daugh- 
ter wishes to have some one about her who will be always 
ready to accompany her, or to sit with her when she feels 
inclined for society, but will not intrude unless her compan- 
ionship is expressly desired. 

Exactly r said Mr. Anson. <* 

speak French fluently, proceeded Henrietta, sing 
a little, and am fond of reading aloud. I am naturally of 
a cheerful disposition, and always glad to make myself 
agreeable. I should wish to make no stipulations about 
being treated like one of the family; amongst people of re- 
finement^^ — great stress was laid on this word — ^^one is 
always sure of receiving politeness and consideration. I 
should wish always to be in the way when I was wanted, 
but should know when to withdraw on those many occa- 
sions when the presence of a companion is irksomp and un- 
necessary. ” 

Miss French uttered this little oration clearly and 
straightforwardly, but with modesty. 

‘^Devilish sensible little girl this thought Mr. Anson. 

The very person for Ethel. " 

see we understand each other perfectly, he said 
aloud> with a pleasant smile. I forgot to mention to you 
that my daughter is at the head of my establishment. My 
wife has been dead many years. ” 

Henrietta bowed sympathetically. 

^^For formas sake,” continued Mr. Anson politely, 
shall be glad if you will favor me with the address of the 
lady with whom I am to have the honor of communicating. ” 
And he placed pen and ink before her. 

She wrote Mrs. Johnstone^s address, remarking how very 
different was her present home from the elegant and lux- 
urious house she had occupied in Kent. 

In case of our being mutually satisfied,” said Mr. 
Anson, when will you be able to join us in Blankshire?” 

‘ ^ Whenever you require my services. ” 

Shall we say a month from next Saturday? Miss An- 
son will have returned from Scotland by that time. May 
1 offer you a glass of wine?” 


86 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


No, thank you,^^ replied Henrietta; and Mr. Anson 
conducted her to the door himself. A brougham was 
waiting. 

Can I send you anywhere he asked, courteously. 

Henrietta declined with many thanks. 

I am going to look at the shops,” she said, with an 
arch smile. 

Ah! and that never fatigues ladies, even in the hottest 
weather!” smiled Mr. Anson, as they bowed and parted. 

Miss French was exceedingly well satisfied with her visit. 

‘‘^If only he does not see any one he likes better,” she 
thought. To go in a month! What excuse shall I make 
to Mrs. Slater? Never mind, there’s plenty of time to think 
of that, and if I can not manage it any other way. I’ll 
quarrel with her. Thank goodness I want nothing of her, 
and once away from that blissful abode of hers, I hope 
never to see her ugly, vulgar face again. And there is no 
Mrs. Anson! What an aristocratic-looking man he is! I 
dare say the daughter is proud and self-willed. I wonder 
if she is-good-looking?” These and a mass of other dis- 
jointed refiections occupied Henrietta all the afternoon un- 
til she returned to Laurel Villa. 

A week^nly of the month had elapsed when Fortune, 
which favors the brave, threw a lucky accident in our little 
adventuress’s way. She had been deploring somewhat 
dolorously the prospect of losing three months’ salary, when 
her fears were removed one evening by the arrival of Mr. 
Harry Slater (the hope of all the Slaters) at Laurel Villa 
with a sprained ankle. She clapped her hands and executed 
with her nimble feet a figure expressive of delight and self- 
congratulation. 

This is too delicious!” she soliloquized. Won’t I play 
on the feelings of the susceptible Harry, and won’t his 
amiable and refined mother be glad to get rid of me on any 
terms! I shouldn’t wonder if I get paid for three months 
instead of forfeiting my poor ten pounds, which I’m sure I 
could not conveniently spare!” 

Henrietta made such good use of her time and eyes that 
Mr. Harry Slater became hopelessly smitten, and was never 
happy except in her company. He insisted on occupying 
the sofa in the school-room, and required Miss French’s 
constant attention either in bandaging his foot or talking to 
him. 


PKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


87 


Mrs. Slater^s suspicions began to be aroused; once she 
thought she detected glances passing between her son and 
the children's governess. She remarked, too, that Henri- 
etta's toilet was more studied than usual. Then came 
secret inquiries of the dear children. Did Harry talk to 
Miss French?" she asked Evelina. 

Oh, yes, mamma, all the morning — we couldn't do our 
lessons a bit." 

^^And — ahem! — did— Gwendoline think Miss French — 
looked at Harry at all?" 

^^Oh, yes, ma, I caught 'em looking lots of times, and 
then she told me to go on with my lessons. And Harry 
said he was fond of blue, so she's got on a blue ribbon this 
morning. " 

^‘' Designing wretch!" murmured Mrs. Slater. 

And when we were doing grammar, ma, Harry asked 
her if he might say the verb ^ to love,' and she said, yes, if 
he liked. " 

^‘^And he looked her in the face, and said, love' — 

ma," interrupted Evelina, and she burst out laughing. 

^^Ho, Gwen, he said ^Thou lovest.'" 

^^But that was after, and she looked up at him and 
nodded." 

'^Infamous creature!" thought the distracted mother. 
^^She shall certainly go!" 

The next day Mrs. Slater marched into the school-room 
during lesson time. There was a portentous frown upon 
her brow as she said: 

Henry, I wish to speak to you." 

Every one started at the unfamiliar appellative, and 
every one down to the youngest understood it. Mrs. Slater 
had that heroic bravery which is characteristic of so many 
a British matron qf the middle class. She scorned to shel- 
ter herself behind tact, or any gentle well-bred fraud; if 
she had anything to say, she blurted it out at once, with 
the same profound disregard of hurting any one's feelings, 
or wounding their self-love. Henrietta cast a momentary 
glance from mother to son, and smiled inwardly. Both of 
the coarse, ill-bred faces were easy enough to read. 

What do you want, ma?" asked Har^, doggedly. 

I want you to come with me. This is no place for 
you." 

A ^vere and stony glare accompanied the last words. 


88 


PfiOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


Fm very well here; at all events, it^s the only 
place in the house where one isn^t moped to death. 

I don^t wish for any argument, Harry exclaimed his 
mother, evincing a disposition to fly out at him; come 
this moment." 

Harry looked as black as night, his sullen brows bent; 
he limped up, and then, before his mother^s very eyes, 
cast what was intended for a most amorous glance at the 
governess. She returned it with a meek imploring gaze. 

Mrs. Slater felt inclined to rush upon her and b^ox her 
ears, but she contented herself with an audible ^^Bold, 
shameless creature," at which the younger children giggled 
and nudged each other. For her part Miss French con- 
cealed her face in her pocket-handkerchief and gave vent 
to the exuberance of her mirth to the wonder of her pupils, 
who were divided in opinion as so whether she was laughing 
or crying. 

Harry!" cried his mother, unable to contain her feel- 
ings, wonder at you — I am ashamed of you!" 

“ What for?" scowled Harry. 

You know very well what for. Your conduct with that 
— that — creature!" • 

“ If you mean Miss French by that creature/^ exclaimed 
Harry, wrathf ully, let me tell you she^s the most perfect 
lady I ever met with!" 

Lady, indeed!" sneered Mrs. Slater. 

Yes, lady — and you can^t expect a feller to be in a dull 
hole like tliis without getting spoony on a fascinatin' wom- 
an, if there^s one in the house. " 

Fascinating! Oh, goodness!" cried his mother; that 
sallow, green-eyed, frowsy creature fascinating!" 

Well, she mayn^’t be exactly a beauty; but she^s what 
the French cd,]]. peehant', and she^s got a stunning foot and 
ankle. " 

Mrs. Slater was speechless with horror. In that mo- 
ment she regarded her son as the most profligate of Love- 
laces, and her governess — but no! there was no name, fit 
for ears polite at least, which would express her shameless 
abandonment. 

Harry!" she exclaimed, when at last she found utter- 
ance; ^^you never see that wretch again — never, mind 
thatl" 


PEOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


89 


I will see her/^ howled out Harry, furiously; and, 
what^s more, 1^11 marry her if shea’ll have me. 

That you sha^nT, you bad, unnatural hoy! DonH think 
you'll be allowed to disgrace your family in that way!" 

Disgrace my family, oh! ho! ho!" laughed Mr. Slater, 
junior, brutally. My family; oh, dear! they've so much 
to be proud of! Why, her father was a swell about town, 
when pa was sweepin' out — " 

^^Hold your tongue! How dare you!" shrieked the infu- 
riated mother. And then followed a scene of violence and 
recrimination, over which we deem it expedient to draw a 
veil. However, when his father came home Master Harry 
was soon reduced to submission, and forbidden, under 
manifold pains and penalties, to enter the school-room. 

You'd better get rid of the governess quietly," said 
Mr. Slater to his wife; but he might as well have advised 
her to deliver an harangue in one of the dead languages. 

That evening she burst in upon Miss French as that 
young lady sat reading by the open window. Henrietta 
rose; Mrs. Slater remained standing. 

'^.How Mr. Slater and I know all” she commenced; 
“ we wish you to leave the house at once." 

^^Know all!" exclaimed the governess, in meek surprise. 

I do not understand, madame." 

Oh! it's no use putting on that innocent face — you un- 
derstand me well enough," said Mrs. Slater, tartly. 

^‘' Indeed, madame, I understand nothing." 

Then I'll tell you. You've been scheming and plot- 
ting to marry my eldest son; and you may as well hear the 
truth at once. If he degraded himself by marrying you, 
his father 'ud turn him out of the business to-morrow, and 
I should like to see him earn a shilling honestly any other 
way. " 

You have no right to speak to me so," uttered Hen- 
rietta, loftily. And as for turning me out of the house, 
you can not do it. " 

We'll see," cries Mrs. Slater. You go by Saturday, 
if I have to have a policeman in!" 

Pray do not waste your breath on idle threats," said 
Miss French, coolly. I shall be only too pleased to turn 
my back upon Laurel Villa. But first I shall require a 
quarter's salary in advance, and five pounds compensation." 

""Oh, don't think money's any object," sneered Mrs, 


90 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


Slater. We’d sooner give fifty pounds than have you here 
a week longer. And you need not trouble to apply to me 
for a character, for I shall not give you one. ” 

Fortunately I do not require one/’ answered Henrietta, 
still in the cool tone that was so inexpressibly exasperating 
to her employer. If I did I could compel you to give me 
one.” 

Henrietta and Mrs. Slater did not meet' again until just 
as the former was about to leave Laurel Villa. She went 
into the dining-room to receive her money. 

I wish you good-bye/’ she said, coldly, and I take 
this opportunity of expressing the delight I feel in leaving 
people whose native vulgarity is less distasteful than their 
attempted gentility. To show you whether 7, who have 
mixed with some of the best-bred men in Europe, would 
stoop to your son, I leave you these two letters.’’ 

And Miss French marched off to the fly, leaving the 
mistress of Laurel Villa' absolutely petrified into silence. 
When she was a little recovered she read the letters the 

f overness had left upon the table. The first was from 
Carry to his dearest! Miss French, cpmmenting with much 
ihdignation at his parents’ cruel and abominable behavior 
to her, and offering to marry her privately. Of course they 
could keep it a secret for a year, when he would be made a 
partner, and quite independent of anybody’s tyranny. 
White with rage Mrs. Slater opened the other inclosure. 

Miss French presents her compliments to Mr. Henry 
Slater, and thanks him for the honor he proposes to do her. 
As she would equally object to a connection with his family 
if they approved the match, and he were already a partner, 
he will at once see how very unacceptable is his present 
proposal. ” 

Could the enraged mother but have said her say! Un- 
fortunately the fly had just driven off— the victim had 
escaped. 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADIS, 


91 


CHAPTER XL 

OLIVE. 

Yet if we could scorn 
Hate, and pride, and fear, 

If we were things born 
Not to shed a tear, 

I know not how thy joy we ever could come near. 

Shelley. 

Now that I have told you so much about Henrietta 
French as will make you familiar with her life and char- 
acter when she comes into the real interest of my story, I 
will go back to my heroine, my Olive, who was yet but a 
child, but who had a soul full of generous impulses and 
warm affection, full of brightness and the desire to love. 
It is true, a film of sensitive pride veiled at times the 
softer, nobler attributes. Olive was not perfect. I know 
not how it is, but writers often fail signally in making the 
characters who are very dear to themselves appear lova- 
ble in the eyes of others. I think you would have loved 
Olive if you had known her; but I am not sure that my 
description of her will win your liking and sympathy. Only 
think, you who are a little world- worn, a little disappointed 
in life, you who begin to have sad doubts whether the 
eager pilgrim ever reaches in this world the goal he has 
set his heart upon — only think what a charm there is in a 
bright, fresh young life, brimming over with exuberant 
vitality, with ardent hopes and keen longings. We may 
feel glad sometimes perhaps that so much of the struggle is 
over for us — our youth is past, and we would not recall the 
months of sorrow for the sake of the days of joy; but is 
there never a time when we look at youth with its bright 
anticipations and unexhausted emotions, and feel a half- 
envious, choking sob of regret for the time before we 
bought our expedience so bitterly? 

All! friends, why do we warn our children? — ^why do we 
check them when they are joyous? — why do we admonish 
them so soberly about consequences? Can we save them 
anything? Will they not grow old too like us? — will they 
not have lines furrowed in their brows and scored in their 


92 FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 

hearts? — and will they not long too to save a future genera- 
tion from folly and disappointment and heart-ache? There 
is something in looking at young people to kindle our 
warmest feelings and awaken our deepest sympathy. And, 
after all, are they not wiser than we? They have all their 
life before them — they believe firmly and implicitly in the 
happiness and success in store for them, and they seek it 
with unrelenting eagerness. And we — even we who have 
suffered and been disappointed, who have had our hopes 
blasted and our lives marred, who have sounded all the 
depths and shoals of vexation and weariness, we stumble 
on, bruised by our many falls, yet striving after the at- 
tainment of a new desire. Has ever in the world yet a 
man or woman come to middle life who has not subscribed 
once with heart and soul to the verdict of the loyal preacher. 

All is vanity and vexation of spirit And if /le found 
it so, possessing, as he did, more richly than any other man 
who ever lived every good gift, ah! then, my friends, what 
hope have we? 

Olive was enthusiastic, idealistic, full of longinsr, of 
hope, full of an eager desire to begin- the battle of life. It 
did not occur to her that she had. commenced it ali’eady, 
was living it every day at home and amidst petty family 
squabbles and jealousies; she had far other thoughts of 
what life was to be. It was the difference between a game 
of single-stick and a real fight. Many a time," when she 
was reading her pet romances, she had sore regrets that 
she had not lived in the days of heroines. How glorious 
to have bearded tyrants on their thrones ! — to have defended 
a castle against a legion of armed men! — to have thrown 
herself off a turret to escape the persecutions of an evil- 
minded nobleman! — and ah! to have been a queen of 
beauty! — to have been proclaimed the peerless one before 
the eyes of the world ! — to have had princes contending for 
her favor! 

“ That must have been enough to make any one happy, 
Olive would say, closing the book. Then she would take a 
mournful survey of herself in the glass, wondering if, in 
that golden age, when all the men were brave and all the 
women fair, any knight would have been proud to wear 
her badge on his shield. But she came to the melancholy 
conclusion that as the men of the present time were so de- 
generated and commonplace in comparison, and there was 


FEOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 93 

even amongst them no candidate for her favor, she would 
not have stood the ghost of a chance in days of yore. 

Seven -months have passed since we saw Olive in deep 
disgrace after her meeting with the baronet. She is as im- 
pulsive, as variable in her moods, as inconsistent as ever; 
but her movements are slower and more gracious, her toilet 
more soignee, her hair smoother than in by-gone days. Her 
relations with her sisters are by no means happier, for they 
are growing terribly jealous now there is no denying that 
she is growing elegant and attractive. They are constantly 
reminding her that the Fanes are all short and fair and 
plump, but they have secret misgivings whether there is 
not more grace in the tall, slight form of their youngest 
sister than in their well -developed figures and middle 
height. “ Her coming out ^Ms a source of endless torment 
to them — she is always teasing about it lately, and their 
father has already asked Mrs. Hamilton why she does not 
take Olive out. 

‘‘ My dear John,-’^ she had answered, peevishly, ‘‘ pray 
■allow me to know best when it is time for Olivers appear- 
ing in society. She is not eighteen yet, and it looks so bad 
to take three girls out.^^ 

‘‘ Alice went out before she was Olivers age, Mary; and 
if you do not like all three to go together, why not let Mary 
or Alice stay at home sometimes 

“ Eeally, John, you are too absurd exclaimed his wife. 

‘ ‘ Who^ ever heard of putting the youngest sister before the 
elder ones? When Mary is married Olivers turn will come. 
The Fanes — 

“ Never mind what the Fanes do, Mary,^^ interrupted 
Mr. Hamilton, good-humoredly; “ this is a question of the 
Hamiltons, and I repeat it is only fair that the child should 
have an opportunity of going out now and then. 

‘‘ There, dear, that will do,^'’ said Mrs. Hamilton, im- 
perturbably. ‘‘ I know you are very cleveT in your pro- 
fession, so do attend to that, and let me manage domestic 
affairs. 

John Hamilton, who knew he had rather a violent 
temper, and had a horror of showing it on trifling occa- 
sions, held his peace, and went off into the garden. 

Now, in her secret heart the mother had no desire to 
prevent her youngest cliild sharing the pleasures of the 
others, but she was very much influenced by what Mary 


94 


FBOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


and Alice said and thought. Thus, when they urged that 
it was preposterous to think of three sisters going out to- 
gether, and that no man would ever dream of proposing to 
one of such a tribe, Mrs. Hamilton listened and yielded 
weakly to their arguments. Women are often very un- 
just in the way they put the claims of the elder before the 
younger. It is certainly very hard upon the latter that be- 
cause they come two or three years later into the world 
they are not allowed to choose, they must give up every- 
thing to the elder, and have only half his or her enjoyments 
and treats. Seniores priores may be all very well in the 
case of the eldest son, but perfect equality amongst the rest 
is only justice. On this point fathers and mothers often 
think differently, as was the case with Mr. and Mrs. 
Hamilton. . 

Olive, too, was beginning to get very anxious about balls 
and parties and picnics. As she came gradually to take 
more pride in herself, she awoke to the sense that she was 
not altogether so plain and awkward as she had hitherto 
believed herself. She was not vain — at least, she was not 
conceited. I make a reservation, because I am not quite 
sure how far a keen love of approbation is compatible with 
the utter absence of vanity. I think Ohve was more one 
of those natures who are habitually prone to underrate and 
tliink badly of themselves, and yet who have sudden and 
evanescent fits of self -exultation. Nurse Greet was still 
her faithful friend and confidante. 

“ IsnT it a shame. Greet she would cry, with an angry 
burst — “ isnH it a shame they wonT let me go out with 
them?^^ 

‘‘ Well, my dear,^^ nurse would answer, in a tone which 
implied that the admission was forced from reluctant lips, 
“ it is a shame— not that I hold with people takin’’ the side 
of children against their parents. 

. ‘‘ But it isnH so much mamma. Greet, cried Olive, who 
was fond of her mother. “It is Mary and Alice who per- 
suade her."” 

“ Well, then, my dear, I donH hesitate to lay the blame 
on them, an^ to say it^s very bad an^ mean-spirited of ^em 
to behave so. But you know it^s easy enough to see it’s 
jealousy. Miss Olive, as Ann the cook says to me only last 
night. 

Did she say so?^'’ asked Olive, quickly. 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


95 


Yes, my dear; but now donH you repeat it, because 
IVe no right to go bringin^ the servants^ gossip out of the 
kitchen to your ears. " 

“ You dear old thing cried Olive. “ As if I should 
be such a goose! Why, I think it would make any one 
laugh to talk of their being jealous of me. I'm not a bit 
like the Fanes; and, oh. Greet, why am I tall and dark- 
haired, instead of being fair and having blue eyes like 
them?" 

“ Well, my dear, that's best known to the Almighty, 
who made you; but, dear bless the child, whatever do you 
want to be light and have blue eyes for, when you've got a 
fine pair of brown ones, as every one that comes to the 
house admires?" 

‘‘ Now, Greet, you're fiattering me!" cried Olive, her 
eyes glistening a little, nevertheless. 

“ No, I'm not," said Greet, stoutly. It wasn't a week 
back when young Benbow the carpenter, came to put a new 
cord to the drawing-room window, an' he see you in the 
garden, an' says to me you'd the loveliest eyes he ever 
saw. " 

Olive was conscious of a fleeting regret that she had re- 
turned the young man's polite salutation on that occasion 
with such an indifferent nod. 

“ But young Benbow isn't everybody, nurse," she said 
aloud, with a slight intonation of disappointment. 

“ No, dear, he's nobody, and of course little it matters 
what such folk as he thinks; but there's Master Frank — I 
know what he thinks, an' he told me — but there — I ought 
to know better than to let my foolish old tongue go clack- 
ing on, an' putting silly notions into your head." 

‘‘ Oh, do tell me. Greet, please do!" implored Olive, 
pursing up her mouth in a coaxing manner. “ I'm sure I 
don't hear much to make me vain." These last words in 
a desponding tone, as nurse looked determined. 

“ Oh, 'twas nothing — nothing at all. You shouldn't be 
so curious. Miss Olive," she added, with some asperity. 
But when she saw that her favorite pouted and looked dis- 
appointed, Greet said quickly, ‘‘ There — there! I'll tell 
you, but I'm sure if it come to your ma's ears, she'd be 
pretty angry with me. Well, Master Frank told me a gen- 
tleman in the railway-train said the third Miss Hamilton 
was much the prettiest. " 


96 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


‘‘ Oh, nurse, he didn^t! Who was it?"^ cried Olive. 

‘‘ I donH know, I^m sure, my dear. Master Frank 
didnH mention no names. 

No honeyed flattery offered by courtly knight to fair 
dame ever gave the recipient greater pleasure than Nurse 
Greet^s honestly meant praise did to Olive. It was the 
child ^s dream of the greatest bliss to be loved and admired. 
So, not being an adept at dissembling, she threw her arms 
round the old woman, and gave her a hearty hug. 

“ Why, bless the child cried nurse. ‘‘ Any one ^ud 
think told you you was goin^ to be Princess o^ Wales. 
Now, Miss Olive, you know you mustnH be doin^ that to 
the first young gentleman as tells you youVe a pretty 
face.^^ 

The last part of the speech was delivered with a he^.-' v 
attempt at humor. 

‘‘Oh! you silly old thing exclaimed Olive, with an- 
other hug. “ There, now, you need not be feeling your 
cap; I havenH crumpled it the least in the world. And, 
Greet, donT you think Pm much more careful with my 
clothes than I used to be?'^ 

“ Well, perhaps you are a little, admitted nurse, “ but 
there’s a deal o’ room for improvement yet. I sewed three 
buttons on your body last night that you bursted in reach- 
in’ up) after that musty old French book. Now come, my 
dear, it’s time you was in your bed, and your hair’s not 
brushed yet. I declare it’s past eleven. You’ll get no 
sleep to-night — and you so anxious about your looks, too.” 

“ But, Greet, it’s all nonsense about beauty sleep, isn’t 
it?” said Olive, passing the comb through her thick brown 
hair and uttering a sudden little cry of pain as it came 
sharply in contact with a tangled lock. 

“ Now, my dear, do give me the comb!” expostulated 
Greet. “ You are so impetuous, you’re always doin’ 
yourself or your clothes a mischief with bein’ in such a 
hurry.” And as she stroked down the. great brown mass 
lovingly, she added, “I’m sure I don’t know who you’d 
want to change heads with — ^neither Miss Mary’s nor Miss 
Alice’s hair can hold a candle to yours, an’ it’s just a rich 
nut-brown as used to be admired when I was young. ” 

“ Was yoiirs that color?” 

“ Something of the same shade, but not so pretty, nor 
yet so thick, either.” 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


97 


Nurse/ ^ said Olive, thoughtfully, after a short pause, 
“ why did you never get married? I^’m sure you were 
pretty when you were young/ ^ 

“Me? my dear; no, I wasn^t — at least, nothing particu- 
lar. But i/s a long story why I didn^t marry, an"* it^s so 
long back now, Tve almost forgot it. I thank the Lord 
I^m as I am now, for if Yd married the lad I so nigh broke 
my heart about, I might have been on the parish now, or 
in jail, p^r'aps, or over the seas, who knows? Now, Miss 
Olive, get you into bed this minute,^^ finished up Greet, 
evidently determined on ending the conversation. Good- 
night, my dear, and pleasant dreams 

“ The same to you. Good-night, you dear old thing— 
and I hope you wonH have the cramp shouted Olive, as 
the door was closing. Then the bright eyes closed, and 
presently the active spirit was far away in dream-land. 
Sleep sweetly, little one — dream pleasant dreams, in which 
comes no overshadowing o:^ all the pain and sorrow in the 
long years to come. 

Ah, ye who scoff and doubt, and find it so hard, nay, so 
impossible' to believe small wonders for which your reason 
can not account, how is it that ye accept the greatest mar- 
vel of all with scarce a comment or a thought? 

What is so wonderful as our utter ignorance of all that 
is to befall us in the future, and our indifference to it? 
Coming fresh from the sphere of a different rule, with what 
wonder would the being of another creation regard us, who, 
without the possibility of knowing or controlling the events 
of the next half hour, can eat, drink, sleep, and take our 
ease, as though we held our lives and fates in our own 
hands? But let me hasten from the vast field a little 
speculation opens, or my story will be curtailed of its right- 
ful proportions. 

In the last few months Olive had made a new friend. 
After Sir George Fabian ■’s remarks on her to Miss Napier, 
that young lady^s interest had been awakened, and she had 
sought an opportunity of knowing more of his fancied 
protot3rpe of Cinderella. And after a time she became 
quite fond of Olive, and would sometimes take her out 
walking or driving in her pony carriage, or would ask her 
to spend the evening at their house. Flora Napier was 
quite young still, only a few years older than Ohve, and 
yet beside her she felt quite old. 


98 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


“ I can not tell how it is/’ she would say sometimes, 
“ but when I talk to you I feel as if I had no freshness left 
in my heart, no youth, no brightness. By the side of your 
buoyant, hopeful simplicity, I experience a sort of world- 
worn weariness — an envious, regretful longing to look at 
life through your young, un tired eyes.^"^ 

‘‘ Oh, Miss Napier cried Olive, with a bright, ringing 
laugh, “ how can you talk like that? Why, you are not 
quite three years older than I am, and every one is in love 
with you. You canH think how often I have envied you ! 
How some really old person would laugh to hear you speak 
in that grand, solemn manner, just as if you were fifty, 
arid had everybody's troubles on your shoulders.’’^ 

Flora smiled. “ I shall try to take a lesson from you,^^ 
she said, “ and get back the freshness that belongs to 
youth. I must boil myself up in a moral caldron, and 
see if I can not get my mind rejuvenated. 

Olive had conceived a gre»t affection for Miss Napier, 
and thought everything she said and did perfection. This 
was natural enough for a temperament like hers, only too 
eager for some object to bestow the wealth of her affection 
upon. She was so intensely grateful for. any kindness, and 
it seemed the height of disinterested benevolence in Miss 
Napier to seek* her companionship. It made her life a 
vast deal happier that she had some girl friend to admire 
— to look up to and copy. If she could only go out to balls 
with her sisters, and — and see that handsome Sir George 
Fabian (who had been the hero to all her romances since 
she first saw him), Olive thought she could be quite happy. 


CHAPTER XII. 

POST TEKEBRAS LUX. 

And love had been the first fond dream. 

Whose life was in reality. 

I had sprung from my solitude . 

Like a young bird upon the wing 
To meet the arrow, so I met 
My poisoned shaft of suffering. 

Letitia Elizabeth Landon. 

One cold, dull afternoon in February, Olive sat reading 
in the library, with her feet on the fender. Her book ap- 
peared not to be a very engrossing one, for she raised her 


FEOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


99 


eyes from it often, and fixed them disconsolately on the 
glowing coals and dancing flame in the grate. A vision 
of her sisters and their occupation upstairs troubled her. It 
filled up every page of the leaves she turned wearily over, 
and quite prevented her gathering any sense or meaning 
from the words at which she mechanically glanced. She 
only saw a cheerful, bay-windowed room, with pretty 
chintz curtains, lined with pink, a muslin and lace toilet- 
cover, ornamented by satin bows, a cheval-glass, a bright 
fire blazing up the chimney, and, lastly and chiefly, two 
little white beds, on which were laid all the pretty para- 
phernalia of an evening party. Olive . thought wistfully of 
the airy white dresses, all bouffants and bouillons, the 
sparkling wreaths of frosted Marguerites, the satin slippers 
and glittering fans, the necklets and ear-rings, and lace 
handkerchiefs. 8he had never worn a dress of the kind, 
and she walked round and round the bed, and looked at 
everything with longing eyes, until her sister told her cross- 
ly that she was like the white bear in the Zoological Gar- 
dens, and they wished she would go away. So with one 
final, regretful glance, she had gone out and wandered in 
a desultory manner about the house, until her mother, 
meeting her on the stairs, reproved her for her idleness. 
Then she went into the library, took down ‘‘ Corinne ” 
from the shelves, and tried to read. But in her present - 
frame of mind, her book did not please her — she thought 
Corinne prosy, and Lord Nelvil silly and pedantic. There 
was so little story in it, and she was not at all in the 
humor to be charmed by the richness of the language. Be- 
sides, she did not want to hear about the Forum and the 
Capitol, and St. Peter \ or — she was going to add — the 
Colosseum; but here she changed her mind, and went off 
into a sudden day-dream, wherein she pictured to herself 
that mighty structure, thronged with the eager forms of a 
vast Roman populace. For a moment she saw the im- 
perial group glittering with gold and ]‘ewels, the thousand 
Sybarites, whom nothing less than raining blood and writh- 
ing forms, and the agony of death-grapples could rouse 
from their languor. She heard the shouts of the eager 
multitude, and the hoarse, sudden cry of the gladiators — 
Ave, imperator! Morituri te salutant!^'’ Then she woke 
up with a sudden yawn, lifted the great tabby cat from the 
hearth, and carried' him with her to the window to look 


100 


FEOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


out. Tm very selfish, Tom, am I not?’^ she said, apos- 
trophizing him. “ I canT be quiet and happy myself, so 
I wonT let you be either. But Tom looked unresentful- 
ly at her, as she laid her face against his warm coat, and 
purred pleasantly, without a shadow of reproach or malice. 
Suddenly the door opened, Olive looked up, and the cat 
jumped down. 

Miss Napier, miss,^^ answered the servant; and Flora 
came in, smiling. 

‘‘ I’m so glad you have come!’^ cried Olive. I was so 
dull.” 

It is not a very cheerful day,” said Flora. I could 
not stay in the house myself, so I thought I would take a 
walk. It is the best thing in the world for spirits. Are 
you not going out?” 

‘‘ Mamma does not like me to walk alone; and Mary 
and Alice do not wish to tire themselves, because they are 
going to a party to-night.” 

The last words were uttered very dolefully. 

“ Then you are not to be one of the party, I suppose? 
Well, never mind,” said Flora, cheerfully. “ Put on your 
hat and come for a walk, and ask your mamma to let you 
dine with us to-night. ” 

‘‘ Oh, how kind you are!” exclaimed Olive, brightening 
up, and she ran away to dress and get permission. Then 
she and Miss Napier went for a brisk walk along the hard, 
white country road, and the girl forgot all about her dis- 
appointment. For it had been a great disappointment not 
going to the party. She was invited with the rest, and 
Mrs. Hamilton had seemed half-disposed to take her, but 
for the indignant remonstrances of her elder daughters. 

‘‘ Come a little before seven,” said Miss Napier, as she 
parted from Olive at the gate; ‘‘ and put on one of your 
pretty muslins, and a ribbon in your hair, and make your- 
self look nice. .Perhaps Jack may bring home a friend or 
two with him — he often does.” 

“ I don’t mind half so much now about not going,” said 
Olive, walking into her sister’s bedroom. ‘‘ I am to dine 
at the Napiers’, and, perhaps, there will be some gentle- 
men there.” 

‘‘ How very delightful!” sneered Mary, a little ag- 
grieved that sh^ had DOt been invited 'there. ‘‘ I suppose 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 101 

you made up such a dismal story to Flora, she asked you 
out of compassion 

‘‘ I did not do anything of the sort/^ retorted Olive, with 
an indignant look. ‘‘It is very unkind of you to say so. 
You always try to put me out of conceit with every little 
pleasure I have. " 

“There,^^ said Alice, “don't be disagreeable. Mary 
did not mean anything, and I hope you'’ 11 enjoy yourself, 
and not fall in love with any of the gentlemen.” Mary 
and Alice always said men. 

Olive betook herself to her own room to make elaborate 
preparations for her simple toilet, as is the wont of young 
girls when they are invited out to spend the evening. Greet 
was called, and at an early hour the mysteries of the toilet 
commenced. The hair was drawn over her pretty ears, and 
lay low on her neck in a thick, soft mass, as was the fash- 
ion of those days, and a ribbon passed across the front. A 
clear muslin, with soft lace round the throat, and hanging 
from the open sleeves, made her look very young and fresh, 
and elicited her father '’s approbation when she went into the 
dining-room to show herself before starting. 

“ Nurse,^^ she whispered in the hall, “ do ask gardener 
to give me a dower for my dress. The old woman went 
off obediently. 

“ You look very well, my dear,^'’ said Mr. Hamilton. 
“ You ought to be going out with your sisters.'’'’ 

“ I dare say I shall enjoy myself quite as much, papa,'’'’ 
returned Olive, cheerfully; and here nurse came back 
empty-handed. 

Miss Olive," she said, “ gardener says the young ladies 
have completely robbed the green -house for their bookies, 
an^ he won^t let another one be took.^^ 

WhatT^ cried Mr. Hamilton. “ He wonT, wonThe?^^ 
He rose quickly, took a knife from the table, which was 
laid for dinner, and walked into the conservatory that 
opened out of the drawing-room. “ Come, Olive," he said, 
and she followed in some trepidation, while her sisters^ eyes 
plainly said, “ Mischief-maker!" “ Now, my dear, which 
will you have?" asked her father, good-humoredly. 

“ A camellia, please, papa; but I really do not mind 
about it.-’^ 

Without another word, Mr. Hamilton cut off a magnifi- 


102 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


cent half -blossom white bud, Vhich she knew the gardener 
had refused to Mary's winning entreaties. 

Oh, papa," she cried, half -frightened, Horton will 
he so angry! That was the very one he was most particu- 
lar about." 

“It will serve him right, then," laughed her father, 
“ and make him more obliging next time. " 

“ John, how could you cut that lovely bud?" cried Mrs. 
Hamilton, in a vexed tone. 

“ I do not often interfere with your conservatory, my 


dear." 


“ It's all very well," said his wife, peevishly, “ but I 
shall have to bear the brunt of Horton's sulks to-morrow." 

“ Send him to me if he is troublesome," remarked Mr. 
Hamilton, sitting down to dinner. “ Good-bye, Olive — a 
pleasant evening!" 

“ Good-bye, papa dear." 

Dme and fetch you myself." 

I 



would!" responded Olive, going off 


happily. 

When she entered Mrs. Hapier^s drawing-room, feeling 
a little shy and nervous, she found Mora and two gentle- 
men in conversation. One was Jack Hapier; the other— 
Olive's heart stood still for a moment — the other was Sir 
George Fabian. She was too young, too little self-pos- 
sessed, not to betray her sudden glad surprise; nor could it 
fail to be observed by each one of the group as they came 
forward to meet her. 

“You remember Jack, Olive?" said Miss Napier, com- 
ing kindly to the rescue; “ and this is Sir George Fabian," 
she added, pretending to ignore their previous meeting. 

“ I hope your memory is as good for me as for Napier," 
said the young man, coming forward and holding out his 
hand with a pleasant smile. 

“ Oh! I remember you quite well," responded Olive, 
with a shy glance in his face. “ Don't you recollect. Miss 
Napier, you brought Sir George one Sunday last July, 
when you came to call on mamma?" 

The naivete^ the utter absence of affectation in recalling 
the circumstance with an accuracy most girls would have 
avoided, delighted Sir George. 

“ You can not think how flattered I feel by your remem- 
bering the time so well. Miss Hamilton/' he said softly. 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


103 


Olive looked up again; it seemed so odd to hear herself 
called Miss Hamilton; but at this moment Mrs. Napier 
entered, and changed the tenor of the conversation. She 
greeted Olive politely, though in her heart she was any- 
thing but pleased at Florals inviting her on this particular 
occasion. It was not that she had any fear of the child 
rivaling her elegant daughter — simply that she was de trop. 
Mrs. Napier had set her heart on Sir George and her 
daughter falling in love with each other. 

Miss Napier looked queenly this evening in her low 
black lace dress and gold-colored flowers — at least Olive 
thought so. Dinner was announced; Sir George gave his 
arm to the hostess. Jack took Olive, and Flora brought up 
in the rear alone. 

‘‘ There^s luck in odd numbers,’^ she said, laughing. 

Olive sat on Mr. Napier^s left hand. Sir George was next 
her on the other; Flora sat opposite alone. The party was 
a very pleasant one. My little heroine had never been so 
happy in her life before; she could scarcely eat for excite- 
ment and delight. Was not this El Dorado, this flne 
room, with its bright lights, its dainty glass sparkling in 
prisms, its flne old paintings, and costly plate? — more than 
all, with this handsome face turned constantly to hers, and 
the sound of an harmonious, well-bred voice in her ears? 
Her blood was young, and fresh, and warm enough to 
dance joyously through her veins unaided by the fine old 
brand of champagne with which the attentive butler plied 
the rest of the company. 

After dinner, when Mrs. Napier^s eyes wefe closed, Olive 
put her impulsive arms round Flora, with that gesture so 
pretty in very young girls, so objectionable in older women. 

“ Oh, Miss Napier!" she said,^ ‘‘ how kind you were to 
ask me to-night.^'’ 

Are you happy, dear?^^ said the other, kindly kissing 
her cheek. “ I am so glad. " And she smiled to herself, 
thinking what an open book the girFs heart was. 

Sir George and Mr. Napier did not stay long over their 
wine; half an hour had scarcely passed before the baronet 
was sitting by Olivers side, talking to her in quick, anima- 
ted tones. Ah! how different this man seemed from any 
one she had met in her life before! How refined! how well- 
bred! And oh, to think he should care to come and sit by 
her, and take pains to find out what she cared for, and the 


104 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


things that interested her most! How much he knew ! how 
much he had seen! He was the first well-bred idler she 
had ever known, and his vast travels, and immense knowl- 
edge of the brightest part of worldly lore, astonished and 
fascinated her. Presently the conversation became more 
general. 

“ Did your brother tell you that he lost his heart when 
he was staying down with me in Blankshire, Miss Napier 
asked Sir George. 

“ He did not go quite so far as that,^^ answered Flora, 
smiling; “ but I have heard him speak constantly of a Miss 
Anson, who combined beauty, talents, accomplishments 
and breeding to a degree so unheard of in these southern 
parts that I began to think his mind was slightly overbal- 
anced by his heart. ” 

“ Come, Fabian!” laughed Jack, “ this is not fair. But 
if I am challenged, I maintain that Miss Anson is the most 
queenly girl, by right divine, that I ever met.” 

“ I should like to see her,*’^ said Flora. “ Jack rarely 
admires a woman.” 

“Is she so beautiful?” asked. Olive, who was always 
eager to see and hear of handsome women. 

“ She is wonderfully admired,” said Sir George; “ and 
I suppose that is the best criterion.^'’ 

“Was your admiration returned? — or did you sigh in 
vain?^' asked Flora, laughingly, of her brother. 

Mr. Napier turned to Sir George with a smile. 

“Fancy Miss Anson admiring me!” he said; and the 
idea seemed so comical that both the young men laughed 
heartily. 

“ Miss Anson is fit to be a duchess,” said Jack; “ and 
I doubt if she would look with more than toleration on any 
one lower than a viscount.” 

“ Come, come, Napier! You are too severe,” cried the 
baronet. 

“ How I should like to see this imperial beauty!^^ ex- 
claimed Flora. 

“ If you would be content with a portrait, I think I could 
gratify you,” remarked Sir George. “ I was commissioned 
to call for her miniature at Dickinson’s, and I received it 
to-day. It is upstairs. Shall I fetch it?” 

“ Oh, do!” cried Flora and Olive in a breath. 


PROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


105 . 


Sir George went and returned in a minute with a large 
morocco case. 

‘‘ That is Miss Anson," he said, opening and placing it 
in Flora's hands, while Olive looked over her shoulder. She 
drew in her breath suddenly as her eyes rested on the pict- 
ure. What was the charm that inspired every one who 
saw Ethel Anson with a sudden, spontaneous throb of ad- 
miration? Whatever it was, it was characteristic, and 
came out plainly in her portrait. She was not a beauty; 
no one would ever have said either of herself or her pict- 
ure, “ What a lovely face!" I will try and describe what 
the morocco case contained — later on we shall meet with 
the original. A tall, exceedingly elegant form, draped in 
the softest, most flowing white raiment. The curves of 
the throat and upper lip were almost disdainful in their 
pride — the attitude was imperial. Her dark-brown hair 
was drawn in a straight line from the broad, low brow over 
the small ears, and the eyebrows slightly arched above the 
large, proud eyes. 

There was majesty, pride and passion in the face, and 
withal a blended look of refinement and breeding that 
would have sent her to the guillotine at once in the old 
days of la helle France, if the furious Poissardes had once 
got her in their demon clutches. 

The picture represented her standing upright with a 
certain defiance in her attitude (perhaps because that was 
habitual to her), and a great mass of scarlet and dark-blue 
flowers fallen at her feet. 

‘‘ I think she must be all you say," remarked Flora, 
slowly, to her brother, after a long look. “ She makes me 
think of two lines of Tennyson: 

“ ‘ A daughter of the gods, divinely tall, 

And most divinely fair. ’ 

I am not surprised at your carrying her picture about when 
you are away from her," she added, with a meaning smile 
to Sir George, while Olive's heart sunk within her. 

‘‘ Pray do not attach undue importance to my being in 
possession of Miss Anson's portrait. I am only intrusted 
with it for a few days. We are like sister and brother, 
nothing dearer or less platonic. Some years ago our fami- 
lies destined us for each other, but since we have arrived 
at years of discretion. Miss Anson has decided for herself 


106 ^ FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 

against the arrangement. ^And Sir George laughed with 
a genuine gayety that dispelled all idea of his being a dis- 
appointed swain. 

“ Come and sing us something/^ said Miss Napier, draw- 
ing Olive toward the Erard, and she assented with a sim- 
ple readiness that made Sir George think to himself what 
a dear, unaffected little girl it was. 

‘‘ And, by Jove, what a sweet voice when she began 
to sing. 

It was Schubert’s “Adieu,” and she sung it so softly 
and pathetically that every one, touched by it, was silent. 

Another song and another — then she rose, and Miss 
Napier, taking her place at the piano, played very brill- 
iantly. 

Sir George seated himself by Olive, and began to talk 
softly to her, that they might not interrupt the music. 

“ I hope I shall meet you at the ball,” he said. “ I 
know you must be fond of dancing.” 

“ Indeed I am!” she answered. “ But which ball do 
you mean — the county ball?” 

“ Yes; shall you be there?” 

Olive shook her head mournfully.' 

“ I am not out yet.” 

“ But you must go,” said Sir George, in a disappointed 
tone. “ Can not 3^011 persuade your mamma?” 

Another shake of the head and a little sigh. 

“ I would give anything to go!” uttered Olive, in a tone 
which left no doubt of its sincerity. 

“Miss Napier!” cried the baronet, as Elora rose from 
the piano,- “ have you sufficient influence with Miss Ham- 
ilton’s mamma to persuade her that she ought to take her 
daughter to the county ball?” 

“ I do not know, but I shall be happy to put it to the 
test,” she said, kindly. 

“ Oh, will you?” cried Olive, eagerly. “ How good of 
you!” 

At this moment Mr. Hamilton was announced. 

“ How fortunate!” exclaimed Elora, advancing to meet 
him. “We were in the midst of preparing a petition, and 
here you are in the very moment of time to grant it.” 

“You have not introduced Mr. Hamilton and Sir 
George, my dear,” said Mrs. Napier, rather stiffly. “ You 
forget they have not met before.” 


FROM oly:^pus to hades. 


107 


So I had. Pray excu^ me. Mr. Hamilton — Sir 
George Fabian. 

The young man came forward and shook hands in a 
hearty, pleasant way that impressed Olive’s father favora- 
bly. 

And what is the petition?” he said to Flora, smiling 
with a most encouraging expression. 

“ Sir George and I have decided that Olive ought to be 
present at the county ball, and we want to make you prom- 
ise she shall go.” 

Olive held her breath, and looked anxiously at her fath- 
er’s face, on which the smile deepened a httle. This was 
a favorable omen. 

“You must not deprive the ball of such an attraction, 
indeed, sir,” said Sir George, with courteous earnestness. 

Mr. Hamilton felt a certain pleasure in hearing this hand- 
some young man plead for his favorite daughter. She was 
his favorite, although he would have maintained stoutly 
that each of the three held an equal share in his affection. 

“ I do not know, I am sure,” he said. “ What do you 
say, Olive? Do you wish to go?” 

“ Oh, papa!” she gasped, unable to say anything more 
from hope and excitement. But those two little syllables 
were very eloquent. 

“We must ask mamma,” muttered Mr. Hamilton; and 
at this the girl’s face fell ever so little. 

“ We can not let you go with such a doubtful consent!” 
exclaimed Miss JSTapier, playfully. “ Do promise that she 
shall go, and then if you retract afterward I shall bring an 
action against you for breach of promise.” 


CHAPTER Xm. 

SKEPTICISM IK THE PREACHER. 

Beauty and joy are hers by right, 

And knowing this I wonder less 
That she’s so scorned. 

Coventry Patmore. 

“ I DARE say we shall obtain consent,” smiled Mr. 
Hamilton. 

“ And to make it impossible for you to draw back, I 
shall try and persuade Miss Hamilton to promise me two 


108 FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 

waltzes. Will you give me the second and third?’* he 
asked turning to Olive. 

‘‘ Oh, thank you!” she answered, her eyes dancing with 
pleasure, while her father smiled secretly at this very naive 
and open demonstration of her delight. 

‘‘ Then I shall claim the first,” said good-natured Jack 
Napier. “ Now, Mr. Hamilton, you won’t have the heart 
to deprive us of our promised partner.’"’ 

Then Olive ran away for her hat and cloak, and coming 
back, wished them all good-bye. 

The two young men accompanied Mr. Hamilton and his 
daughter to the door. Olive shook hands with Sir George 
last, that sure sign of a girl’s preference, and he held her 
just a moment longer than was necessary, looking down 
into the pretty brown eyes. It was very pleasant to the 
young man to meet their bright glance, particularly now 
that such a glad, happy light beamed in them. 

As for Olive, tripping along the hard, white road by her 
father’s side, she seemed to dance on air, so light and 
buoyant she felt in her excitement. 

Papa,” she exclaimed, seizing his arm, ‘‘ will you 
really let me go?” 

“ We must ask mamma.” 

“ But I’m so afraid Mary and Alice will persuade her 
not,” cried the girl, betraying her sisters quite uninten- 
tionally in her anxiety to get her father’s consent. “ If 
you would say I shall, papa.” 

“ AVell, then, I say you shall,” said Mr. Hamilton, 
kindly, not having the heart to disappoint his little girl of 
this immense expectation of pleasure. 

“ Oh, you dear papa!” cried impulsive Olive, stopping and 
throwing her arms round him on the winter’s night, regard- 
less of frost and cold. And the man of the world, remem- 
bering how soon the enthusiasm and happy looking-forward 
of youth goes by, did not attempt to check her exuberant 
joy. 

Olive rushed up into her room, where nurse was already 
awaiting her. She fiung off her hat and cloak and pro- 
ceeded to execute a wild dance in the limited space between 
the bed and toilet-table, finally flinging her arms round the 
old woman with a heartiness that nearly overbalanced her. 

“ Mercy on the child!” cried Greet, laughing for sympa- 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


109 


thy in spite of herself. “ Whatever is the madcap up to 
now?^^ 

And Olive, having indulged in another terpsichorean 
figure, indicative of delight, flung herself breathless on 
the bed. 

“ 0 Greet! what do you think she gasped. 

‘‘ Think? Why, I think you^re crazed,-’^ was the mat- 
ter-of-fact response. 

“ No; but. Greet, guess the most delightful thing that 
could have happened. 

“ Well, I guess somebody^s died and left you a legacy, 
said Greet, complying obediently with the command. 

‘‘Oh! something much better than that,^'’ cried Olive, 
impatiently. 

Well, p’r^aps youVe met the young prince out of one 
o^ your fairy-tales, said the old woman, shrewdly. 

‘‘ Not exactly,-’^ murmured Olive, siriiling to herself, as 
if some pleasant conceit had taken her. 

“ Well, my dear, guessing's weary work, so tell me all 
about it yourself." 

“ Papa has promised I shall goto the county ball," cried 
Olive, throwing herself rapturously back on the pillows. 

“ AVell, I never!" exclaimed Greet, with infectious glad- 
ness. “ Dear heart, that is news! AVhatever will your 
ma and the young ladies say? An', however did he come 
to make such a promise?" 

“ Miss Napier made him, and Sir George Fabian — you 
know, that handsome gentleman, with fair hair and blue 
eyes, who came in the summer." 

“ What, the baroknight that Miss Alice had so much to 
say about? And did he talk to you, my dear?" 

“ Yes, nearly all the evening," responded Greet's nurs- 
ling, delighted. “ He made me promise to dance two 
waltzes with him." 

And in a moment the girl's feet were twinkling round 
the narrow space again. 

Nurse had not heart to check her delight. 

“ And did you call him my lord?" 

“ No," said Olive, with a momentary misgiving lest she 
ought to have done so. But she recollected that no one 
else did, and was reassured. 

It was a very long time before her nocturnal prepara- 
tions were completed on this night, and Greet had taken 


110 


PROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


her candle. Then she lay awake for hours — oh! such 
happy hours! She wondered to herself how any one could 
complain of life and say there was no real happiness in it. 
Was not this real, delightful, ecstatic happiness? What 
could the most unreasonable of beings desire more? But 
then she reflected that such good fortune did not happen 
to mortals every day as to receive attentions from a hand- 
some young man of title. And she felt a sudden com- 
miseration for all those in general who did not enjoy such 
an advantage, and for old people in particular. What a 
dreadful thing it must be to be old -and not able to go to 
balls and dance or receive attention from handsome young 
men any more! She wondered how it was possible for 
elderly people to support life with so much cheerfulness as 
they seemed to do. Then her active brain flitted oS to the 
consideration of what she should wear. 

“ How I should like to have a dress like Miss Anson in 
the picture,^^ she thought. 

“ But there must have been dozens and dozens of yards 
of tulle in that, besides real lace,^^ so that was hopeless. 
“ And what a lovely contrast those scarlet and dark-blue 
flowers made! She might surely have those. But reflec- 
tion showed her that . the effect would not be the same in 
artificial flowers, tawdry and common perhaps, unless they 
were like some she had seen at Madame Chiffon^s. Her 
mamma had said the price of those was fabulous, so she 
dismissed the idea from her mind and fell to thinking of 
that magnificent Miss Anson, and wondering if Sir George 
was in love with her, and she had refused him. No! she 
could not believe it possible for any woman to refuse him. 
Perhaps — perhaps — and Olive had a terrible sinking at her 
heart — perhaps they were engaged, and that beautiful por- 
trait really belonged to him — perhaps he carried it about 
everywhere. Presently she fell asleep, and with that mys- 
terious caprice our dreams often have of connecting events 
and thoughts of the past day, she dreamed herself a spec- 
tator in the Colosseum at Kome. A wounded gladiator lay 
stretched in the arena, caught in his adversary’s net, while 
a powerful form with a raised trident stood menacingly 
above him. She looked with bated breath — the face of 
the fallen man was that Sir George Fabian. Following 
his upward glance, she saw Miss Anson seated on the im- 
perial throne, covered with cloth of gold and jewels. Her 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


Ill 


brow was bent in pride and defiance as she turned her 
thumb downward. Olive shrieked out and so awoke her- 
self. Her heart was beating tumultuously with fear^ but 
slie gradually remembered where she was, and the recollec- 
tion of the ball dawning upon her, she went off happily to 
sleep again. 

The following morning she had breakfasted and re- 
turned from seeing Mr. Hamilton off by the train before 
her sisters made their appearance. Her mother was break- 
fasting in bed. 

Oliver’s cheeks were flushed with walking fast, her lips 
were rosy red; and she looked so bright and radiant her sis- 
ters could not fail to remark it. 

“ Well, did you have a pleasant evening asked Alice, 
good-humoredly. 

“ I never enjoyed myself so much in my life,^^ she an- 
swered, eagerly. ‘‘ Have you seen mamma? have you 
heard 

‘‘ Heard what?’^ said Mary, looking up. 

‘‘ Do you know who was at the Napiers^ ?^^ 

No,'’^ replied Alice. “ Who?"’"’ 

“ Sir George Fabian; and he asked papa to let me go to 
the county ball, and I^m going, and I am to dance two 
waltzes with him,^^ said Olive, triumphantly, all in a 
breath. 

Her sisters exchanged glances of such dismay that she 
could not help laughing. 

There is a good deal of retribution in this world, even in 
small matters; and the elder sisters were at this moment 
suffering a just puinshment. If they had only let Olive 
go to the party with them last night (after all it had been 
a tame, dull affair), she would not have met Sir George 
Fabian, and there could have been no question of her going 
to the county ball, the greatest event of the year. 

Who says you are going asked Mary, coldly. 

“Papa has promised,^ ^ returned Olive, laying great 
stress upon the “ promised. 

“ Does mamma know?^^ inquired Alice. 

“ I suppose papa has told her.-’^ 

“ There is Signor Tivoli,"^ said Mary, as the bell rang. 

“ You had better go and have your lesson. I think Olive 
becomes a greater nuisance every day, she added as the 
door closed upon her young sister. 


112 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


“It is wretched having to take her oiit/^ responded 
Alice; “but it is almost worse to leave her at home. I 
wonder how she wheedled papa into saying she should go.^^^ 

“ Perhaps he only said it to pacify her. I dare say he 
will not interfere if mamma says she is not to go. 

“ To think of Sir George Fabian being at the Napiers’/’ 
deplored Alice. 

‘ ‘ And the idea of his asking her to dance two waltzes — 
he can’t possible care anything about her. ” 

“ How absurd! Of course not! She is so forward, per- 
haps he could not help himself.” 

I shall go and see mamma,” exclaimed Mary; and, 
followed by her sister, she went to her mother’s room. 

Mrs. Hamilton, in a handsome dressing-gown, was seat- 
ed over a cozy fire, partaking of coffee and buttered toast. 

“ Good-morning, mamma,” said her daughters amiably. 
“ Are you tired? How is your head?” 

“ Better, thank you, dears,” she replied, wiping her 
mouth with the lace handkerchief of the previous evening 
before kissing them. 

“ Y.ou won’t eat all this toast, mamma, I know,” said 
Mary, helping herself and taking the arm-chair at the op- 
posite corner of the fire. 

“ How good the coffee smells!” remarked Alice. 

“ Bing the bell for a cup, dear, and have some,” said her 
mother. Then the trio drew up cozily round the fire. 

“ Olive says she is going to the county ball, mamma,” 
began Mary. “ Did papa really say she might?” 

“ He told me something about it this morning,” rejoined 
Mrs. Hamilton, “ but I was too sleepy to pay much atten- 
tion. I heard something about Flora Napier and Sir 
George somebody, and Olive’s dancing two dances, and 
your papa promising and not liking to break his word.” 

“But, mamma, you surely will not allow her to go!” 
exclaimed Alice. “We had- sooner she went anywhere 
else. Fancy three of us going to the county ball ! Why, 
people would say just the same of us as we do of the Har- 
rises.” 

“ But you know, love, Olive must come out some time, 
and if she does not go to this one she will have to wait 
another year. You went out before you were Olive’s age. ” 

“ But that was quite different. People never think any- 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


113 


thing of two, but when they find we all mean to go out 
they will consider it quite a bore to have to ask us/^ 

“ But we do not ffo by invitation to the county ball, my 
dear. We pay for our tickets, and if your papa does not 
object to the additional expense, it can not matter to any 
one. ” 

‘‘ 0 mamma! you must try and prevent it,^^ exclaimed 
Mary, in an imploring tone. 

“ But, Mary dear,’" said her mother deprecatingly, “ the 
poor child will be so dreadfully disappointed if she does not 
go, now that your papa promised. ” 

‘‘ She had no right to try and persuade him when our 
backs were turned. It was very artful.” 

‘‘ It was very natural,” remarked Mrs. Hamilton. 
‘‘ But who was the Sir George your papa mentioned?” 

‘‘ Sir George Fabian — the man Flora Napier brought 
here in the summer. He was there last night.” 

‘‘ Then does he want Olive to go to the ball?” asked Mrs. 
Hamilton, with some interest. 

“ She says so,” responded Alice, sulkily. 

Now, how nice it would be if he would take a fancy to 
her,” said the mother, feigning to make a jest of it. 
“ Then she would be out of your way altogether.” 

But this idea was gall and wormwood. 

‘‘ How ridiculous!” exclaimed Mary, angrily. 

I hope Olive won’t take such an idea into her head,” 
chimed in Alice, ‘‘ or there will be no bearing her.” 

The conclave continued a long time, and did not break 
up until Mrs. Hamilton had promised, somewhat reluctant- 
ly, to persuade her husband against the expediency of tak- 
ing Olive to the ball. But the first hint she gave of her 
intention when they were alone, he put on a determined 
manner that he always assumed when he meant to have 
his own way, and against which his wife knew there was no 
appeal. 

Don’t let there be any discussion about it, Mary,” he 
said, quietly. I have promised Ohve that she shall go, 
and I mean she shall. If you object to it on the score of 
numbers, let one of the others stay at home.” 

“Oh! if you wish it so particularly, of course she shall 
go!” replied his wife, yielding with a good grace. “ She 
must have a new dress. ” 

“ By all means,” acquiesced Mr. Hamilton; “ and let it 


114 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


be a pretty one. She ought to look well on her first ap- 
pearance in society.'’^ 

When Olive found that her debut was decided upon, and 
her dress actually ordered, her joy knew no bounds. She 
flitted up and down-stairs — ^in and out of every room, sing- 
ing like a bird. Her gayety and good temper were un- 
alterable — no one saw hOr cross or petulant, and she re- 
plied with the best grace in the world to the snubbings 
bestowed upon her by her sisters. For three or four days 
before the ball she was half wild; it seemed as if she could 
not settle to anything. Her father remarked on her joy- 
ousness with secret pleasure, though he aft'ected to chide 
her uncontrollable jubilance. 

‘‘ What are you going to wear?^' he asked her one night 
at tea-time. 

“ 0 papa, the loveliest dress you ever saw!^^ 

‘‘ But I have not seen it, my dear.-’' 

‘‘ It is all white and soft and floating, with a long, broad, 
white satin sash. And I am to have scarlet geraniums in 
my hair, and a bouquet of the same in front. 

“ H'm! Very good taste," observed Mr. Hamilton, ap- 
provingly. Have you any ornaments?" 

Not any good ones, papa, so I shall go without. It 
would not do, you know, to spoil the effect of my beauti- 
ful dress with common jewelry." 

‘‘ Certainly not," he assented. 

The day came at last, cold and bright. “ Very fine, in- 
deed," as nurse told her when she awoke in the morning; 

but there — the weather was no consequence for a ball." 

Olive could not settle to anything, so she went out for a 
walk in the morning, and tried to while away the time as 
best she could. 

Soon after lunch she prevailed on nurse to put all her 
attire ready upon the bed, and for a long time it caused 
her great amusement and dehght. But finding this began 
to pall, she betook herself to the drawing-room piano and 
sung a little. Then she tried to write to one of her young 
friends, but stopped suddenly, remembering how much 
more she would have to tell on the morrow. Then she 
began a fresh piece of work, after which she had a spell of 
playing with the cat, and finally threw herself despairingly 
in an arm-chair and contemplated the fire. Thus occupied 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 115 

her father found her when he came in from town rather 
earlier than was his custom. 

“ Is that you, papa?^^ asked Olive, as he opened the 
door. 

“ Yes,^^ said her father. ‘‘ You know I have my 
preparations to make for going out as well. ^ ^ 

“ You don^t mean to say you are going, papa!^^ cried 
Olive, jumping up in the intensity of her astonishment. 

‘‘ Yes, I intend to make my dehut with you,^^ replied 
Mr. Hamilton, who rarely went out except to dinner- 
parties. 

“ How delightful exclaimed Olive, dancing round the 
room in great glee. I)o you know, papa, I am so 
happy!^" 

“That shows how cheaply our greatest pleasures are 
often bought,'’^ thought her father. “I am very glad, 
dear,"’"’ he said aloud. “ Here, I have brought you some- 
thing to add to your happiness,^^ taking a blue paper parcel 
from his coat-pocket. 

“ 0 papa, what is it?’"’ cried Olive, turning it over with 
trembling fingers and holding it down to the fire-light. 

“ We will have a candle,^'’ said Mr. Hamilton, ringing. 

But impatient Olive could not wait for the light, but un- 
did the paper hastily, and then another and another. The 
flickering blaze revealed to her a brown morocco case with 
a gold stripe round it. Opening this with eager fingers 
she saw a large gold locket, with a carbuncle center sur- 
rounded by pearls. There was a gold chain too. 

“ It is not for me?^-’ she said, looking up bewildered and 
doubting. 

“ Yes, my dear, for you — a present from your mamma 
and me. 

Words failed Olive. She could only throw her arms 
round her father and kiss him a hundred times, in thanks 
for this valuable gift. How many a one a thousand times 
richer and more costly has been received with indifference 
and little pleasure! That ought to teach us that our 
riches do not consist in the abundance of the things that 
we possess, but rather the contrary. 

At eight o^ clock Olive went up to dress. I can not, 
Asmodeus-like, lift up the roof and show you the interior 
of the little room upon this occasion, I can only try to de- 
scribe it in so many words. A shaded green carpet, and a 


116 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


rosebud patterned paper covered with little pictures in 
oval frames, mostly representing the beauties of different 
great poets. There were Viola and Beatrice, Portia and 
Imogen from Shakespeare; Haidee and the maid of Athens 
from Byron; Amy Eobsart and the Laly of the Lake of 
Scott. A few photographs, too, in Oxford frames, colored 
by herself. The mantel-piece was covered with ornaments, 
and a row of book-shelves took up one corner of the room. 
There were light chintz curtains lined with pink hanging 
round the dainty little white bed, and the toilet- table was 
covered with muslin, tliread lace, and pink bows. Nurse 
used to spend a good deal of time on the adornment of her 
pePs little chamber, knowing the pleasure she had in see- 
ing it look pretty and tasteful. She had prepared a great 
illumination on the occasion of this wonderful festivity. 
Olive was in a perfect fever of delight and impatience ^s 
she contemplated all the pretty things laid out for her 
adornment. 

Her toilet was complete, with the exception of her dress, 
when a knock came on the door. 

“ Come in,^^ she cried, and Hannah the house-maid en- 
tered softly and looked around in the same curious, inter- 
ested manner that a novice might, coming suddenly upon 
the performance of some mysterious ceremony. In her 
hand she held a square wooden box. 

“ For you, Miss Olive, she said, in a voice scarcely 
above a whisper. 

“ For me?^^ Olive exclaimed, in a flutter of nervous ex- 
citement. “ What is it, Hannah 

“ Shall I open it and see, miss?” asked the girl eagerly. 

“ Please, Hannah. Oh, be quick!” she cried, scarcely 
able to stand quiet for anxiety. 

“ Now, my dear, do be still!” expostulated Greet. ‘‘ I 
shall be stickin^ one o' these pins into you in a minute.'” 

“ Oh, I don't care if you stick them all in,” cried Olive. 
“ 0 Hannah!" this last with a perfect scream of delight 

The box was open, and Hannah was employed in pick- 
ing cotton wool ofl the loveliest of bouquets — white camel- 
lias and scarlet geraniums. 

I could not describe to you, however much I might try, 
the rapturous emotion that filled the girl's heaving breast, 
or the delight sparkling in hsi- eyes. Go back to old times 


PROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. Il7 

yourself, gentle reader, and think if you can not call to 
mind some such happy occasion yourself. 

“ Where did it come from, Hannah? — did papa send 
it?^^ 

Ho, miss, that he didn^t. It was left just this minute 
by a very stylish-looking groom. 

“ And one for the others, too, Hannah?^^ 

Ho, miss, only this one.^^ 

“ But are you mre it^’s for me? What is on the box?^^ 

“ Oh! yes, it^s for you, sure enough. HeiVs Miss Olive 
Hamilton as large as life.^^ 

And Olive, her toilet completed, went down-stairs to the 
dining-room, radiant in her white dress and scarlet flowers, 
her satin shoes, fan, lace handkerchief, the gold locket 
round her throat, and last, most delightful of all, the 
precious bouquet. The greatest marvel was that the un- 
known donor had chosen the very colors she was to wear. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

SCARLET GERANIUMS. 

And lovely is that heart of thine, 

Or sure those eyes could never shine 
With such a wild yet bashful glee, 

Gay, half o’ercome timidity. 

John Wilson. 

‘‘Heyday!'^ cried Mr. Hamilton, as she entered — 
‘‘ what is this.^^^ 

Olive blushed a most rosy blush. 

‘‘ Is it not lovely, papa?’^ 

‘‘ This is indeed magniflcent!^^ cried her father, in a 
pleasant voice, taking the flowers from her hand. ‘‘ Why, 
where did it come from?^^ 

‘‘ I donT know, papa, indeed,^ ^ she replied, with secret 
pride; “ there was nothing but my name on the box.-’^ 

‘‘ How did it come? Are you sure it is for you?^^ cried 
her sisters, in whom a little jealousy may be pardoned on 
this occasion. 

‘‘ Oh! yes, quite sure — it was Miss Olive Hamilton.^-’ 

“ Let us look at the box," said Alice, and nurse went 
off and returned triumphantly with it. 


118 


FEOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


There^s no mistake about that/^ she remarked, em- 
phatically, laying it on the table. 

“ Your very colors, too!^^ exclaimed her father, looking 
at her dress, and feeling secretly pleased to see how pretty 
and graceful she looked. 

Dear me!^'’ said Mrs. Hamilton, coming in, what a 
lovely bouquet! Whose is it?^'’ 

“ Mine!^^ cried Olive, in accents of delighted pride. 

‘‘ My dear, where did you get it?^^ 

‘‘ It seems quite^ a mystery, mamma,^"’ said Mr. Hamil- 
ton. “ All we can hear is that it was brought by a smart- 
looking groom. Perhaps the mystery will solve itself at 
the ball.^^ 

Mrs. Hamilton took up the flowers, examined and ad- 
mired them, but Mary and Alice looked pointedly away. 

“Come, come," cried Mr. Hamilton, “it is half -past 
ten, and the flies have been waiting half an hour.-’^ 

When they arrived at the Assembly Rooms, Olive was 
trembling from head to foot with excitement. She walked 
up the broad staircase in a kind of dream, and heard de- 
licious strains proceeding from the ball-room. She had 
scarcely touched the landing when Sir George came out, 
looking so handsome, so aristocratic, and approached her 
with a glad smile. 

“ Our waltz has just commenced. Miss Hamilton, and 
in another moment his arm was round her slender waist, 
and Olive was away in paradise, amidst the sparkling, glid- 
ing maze of houris, half hidden in their gauzy draperies. 
Her whole heart was in it as she flew along in the hand- 
some baronet's arms, scarcely seeming to touch the 
ground. 

“ I knew you would dance beautifully," he whispered, 
as they stopped at the end of the room. 

She was dying to know if he had sent her the bouquet; 
but she dare not ask him, for fear she should have flattered 
herself too much. 

“Is it not lovely?" she asked, holding it toward him, 
and trying to read the expression of his face. But it was 
perfectly inscrutable. 

“ Lovely," he responded. “ I see you have chosen Miss 
Anson's favorite flowers." 

“ Which? — the camellias or geraniums?" 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 119 

‘‘ The geraniums. She nearly always wears them in her 
hair. Here comes Miss Napier 

And at this moment Flora stopped beside them. She 
held in her hand a bouquet similar to Olivers, only the 
colors were white and green. 

‘‘ Miss Napier, do you know anything about my bou- 
quet exclaimed Olive. “It is so lovely, and I can not 
tell where it came from.-’^ 

“ I am in the same predicament,^^ said Flora, with a sly 
glance at Sir George. “ Mine was left mysteriously at the 
door, with nothing but my name on it. It is very kind of 
some one. ^ 

“ How I wish I knew!^^ uttered Olive, “because I do 
want so to thank them.^^ 

But the baronet made no sign — he was talking to Miss 
NapieFs partner. 

What a delightful evening it was, and how thoroughly 
Olive enjoyed it! Four times she danced with Sir George 
— all waltzes, and he took her in to supper besides. He 
had such care of her, and introduced her to so many part- 
ners, that she never sat down once. And he was so attent- 
ive to Mrs. Hamilton, and took her to the refreshment- 
room, and danced once with Mary and Alice. Ah! and 
what bewitching flatteries he whispered to her, and how 
eloquent were the looks which met the upturned brown 
eyes! I can safely say that Sir George spent quite as de- 
lightful an evening as his little partner — there was some- 
thing so fascinating to him in her youth and freshness, in 
her unfeigned enjoyment of the nigh t^s pleasure, that he 
felt he could never tire of watching her. It was a very 
sweet incense to the young man^s vanity to see how de- 
lighted she was with his attentions, and to read the elo- 
quent looks of her large eyes, which she seemed to have 
neither wish nor power to control. 

“ All that’s bright must fade, 

The brightest still the fleetest,” 

and so this delightful evening came to an end, and Sir 
George bade Olive good-night, pressing her hand tenderly 
as he placed her in the, carriage. 

“ I need not ask how you enjoyed your evening,^^ her 
mother said kindly, as she bade her good-night. 

“ Oh, so much, mamma! Thank you and papa a thou- 


120 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


sand times for taking me/^ and she kissed them affection- 
ately before going upstairs. 

As Sir George Fabian returned to his hotels he had some 
secret misgivings whether he had behaved quite rightly in 
paying this young girl such marked attention. What a 
dear little soul it was! How fresh, how trustful, how nat- 
ural she was! What confiding, gazelle-like eyes she had! 
How pleasant it would be to marry a young, innocent 
creature so thoroughly unsophisticated, and ignorant of 
the ways of the world! > 

‘‘ Pshaw !'’^ he exclaimed, “ what a fool I am! The idea 
of thinking of marrying, when I have all the best of my life 
to come yet. I did. not know I was susceptible enough to 
be moved to such serious consideration by a beautiful pair 
of eyes and a graceful figure. 

When he awoke in the morning, his first thought was a 
desire to see Olive. He would go and call after breakfast. 
But then he reflected that as he had no serious intentions 
toward her, it would be hardly fair, and mjght lead her 
family to expect too much of him. So with unusual self- 
denial he controlled his desire and went up to London, 
having first left a card to inquire after Miss JSFapier. 

‘‘ I shall come down and see her in a week or two,^'’ he 
thought, and then betook himself to other matters. First, 
he must drive to his club in St. James^’s Street, and order 
dinner for those three fellows who had promised t) dine 
with him before going to the Lyceum; and, confound it 
all! they must dine at the unearthly hour of half ' past six, 
to be in time for Fechter^s great piece. This important 
business over, Si^ George went for a stroll. He passed 
down the street into Pall Mall,Avhere, catching sight of a 
group of friends in the bay-window of the Guards'’ Club, 
he went in and had a chat about the Epsom Spring meet- 
ing, the coming election, the tremendous scandal about 

Lady F , and poor Jack Hazeldine^s outlawry. After 

that it was time for him to go to Piccadilly and dress, and 
then return to his club again. His guests arrived soon 
after him — Mr. Fairfax, Captain Anson and Lord Athel- 
stan Warne. 

The first was a tall, distinguished-looking man of five- 
and-thirty, with brown hair and eyes; his face slightly 
bronzed with travel. There was a certain weariness in his 
expression, as if he had given his heart to search out all 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 121 

manner of things that are done under heaven, and had 
found them all vanity and vexation of spirit. No one 
could have called Alan Fairfax C3mieal or bitter, or a mis- 
anthropist. If the world had deceived and disappointed 
him, he did not rave against it — he disbelieved in it quiet- 
ly, and abstained from placing undue faith in its children. 
I shall say no more about him now because, for the present 
interest of the story, it would be unnecessary. Later on I 
hope to make you much better acquainted with him. 

Lord Athelstan Warne was a dissipated, red-eyed young 
Guardsman, with very little brains or money, and decided- 
ly vicious tendencies. No one was very fond of him for 
his own sake, but having two pretty sisters, and a mother 
who gave charming parties, he made a very good thing out 
of their popularity. 

Dinner was served; the party a cheerful one, and at 
eight o’clock they went off to the theater. By midnight 
they were back in Sir George’s rooms, smoking, drinking,, 
and chatting very cozily. 

“And so, Fairfax, you really mean to come and settle 
down amongst us at last?” said Sir George. 

“Yes, I have been giving my mind a good deal to farm- 
ing lately, and think of turning a little of my acquired 
knowledge to account. I have some rather new ideas on 
manuring and draining.” 

“ I suppose you have no intention of selling your yacht?” 
said Captain Anson. “ Farquharson was asking me. only 
yesterday about her. He would give almost any price.” 

“ I would not part with my ‘ Dolores ’ for six times her 
value,” replied Mr. Fairfax, quickly. “ But I should not 
have thought Farquharson was a man to care much about 
yachting.” 

“ Oh! he only wants one to enter for the Regatta, be- 
cause he thinks it is rather the thing. Yachting! Jove! 
no. He had a pretty turn of that when he went to Nor- 
way with Beresford. I never saw a fellow look so green in 
my life. But he was very plucky about it, and never com- 
plained or bothered us to put him ashore, as some fellows 
would have done.” • 

“ Farquharson’s a horrid muff,” remarked Warne, who 
never had a good word for anyone. “He rides like a 
tailor, and doesn’t bring down one bird in ten.” 


122 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


‘‘ Oh, he^s not a bad fellow,^ said Sir George. “ He is 
extremely liberal and gives princely entertainments.^^ 

“ That’s the only way those nouveaux riches have of 
getting into society, by flinging their money about,’"’ 
sneered Lord Athelstan. 

They would not succeed even then, if there were not 
plenty of people in society who are glad enough to make 
use of them.” And Mr. Fairfax took a long puff at his 
cheroot, and sent the blue smoke in a thin curling line 
from . his closed lips. It was a strange thing for Alan 
Fairfax to be in such a contradictory mood — he who was 
generally so courteously tolerant. But there was some- 
thing in the tone of this supercilious young lordling that 
chafed him inexpressibly. 

His own family was twice as old, twice as respectable, 
for Lord Athelstan’ s father’s title was only the rich heir- 
loom of a woman’s shame; yet he would have scorned to 
cast it in any one’s teeth, or hint behind their back that he 
was better born or bred than they. But then people who 
have anything to boast of are generally silent on the sub- 
ject. You never hear those who are really well bred assert- 
ing the fact. You never see them giving themselves airs 
of superiority, and treating people fcneath them in rank 
with contempt. They show their breeding by their unfail- 
ing courtesy, because it is the natural instinct of true no- 
bility. 

Confound those fellows!” thought Sir George; 

they’ll be getting up a quarrel in a minute or two, if I 
do not divert their attention. I never saw Fairfax look so 
savage before. ” 

“ Here, Warne,” he said aloud, “ come and look at these 
photographs. Crudon sent me them over from Paris last 
week — I think they are just the things you like.” 

Lord Athelstan appeared to derive a good deal of amuse- 
ment from the inspection of the pictures, and remained si- 
lent for some time. 

“ I suppose you will have a grand turning out of the old 
place before you settle down in it for good, ” remarked 
Captain Anson, turning to Mr. Fairfax. 

‘‘ I hardly know. Not yet, at all events. I have a great 
fancy for the evidences of antiquity, and do not approve of 
the present fashion of modemiaing. It seems to me the 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


123 


people with new houses want to turn them into old, and 
those with old ones can not have them modern enough. 

‘‘ Of course antiquity is respectable/'’ said Sir George, 
‘‘butit^s infernally uncomfortable. Those high-backed 
chairs donT suit modern spines, and as for uncarpeted, 
floors and latticed windows, they are only fit for water-color' 
interiors. The sole thing I care for is the great carved: 
chimney-piece up to the ceiling. They give one pleasant, 
sort of notions (theoretical only, of course) of drawing up 
around the great logs, and listening with thrilling interest; 
to the strange adventures of some bronzed and bearded 
traveler who has sought a night^s shelter while the wind 
blows in the chimney, and the storm rages without.^’ 

‘ ‘ Fairfax would have to play Othello, and recount bis 
wonderful tales of sea and land,^Maughed Grevil. “It 
only remains for us to find him a Desdemona to be won by 
them."’^ 

“ Ah! and when he meets her, the fair creature will not 
be long in transforming the old abbey. 

“ No fear of that,'’-’ laughed Alan. “The loveliest of 
‘ old men'’s daughters '’ would not have the power to make a 
Benedick of me now. After five-and-thirty, a man is not 
very susceptible.-’^ 

“ I don-’t agree with that!-’^ cried Captain Anson, “ and 
the old proverb bears me out. ‘ The older the fool '’ — you 
know the rest. Apropos of that, have you heard Colonel 
Secretan is going to marry that pretty little milliner out of 
Colonettes? It’s an infernal shame, with his two grown- 
up daughters.’-’ 

“ Selfish old brute!” exclaimed Sir George. “ It is nat- 
ural enough for a man at his age to like a pretty woman,, 
but it’s scandalous to inflict a common little doll like that, 
upon two proud, high-bred girls. ’ ’ 

“ They mean to cut it,” ^aid Warne, looking up. 

“ Maud told my youngest sister she would sooner go out as 
governess than remain in the old house with that creature 
for its mistress.” 

“ And quite right!” cried Grevil Anson. “ But I don’t 
suppose there will be any need for that. She can marry, 
and marry well, to-morrow. Romaine is awfully fond of 
her.” 

“And she’s fond of Harding, who hasn’t a rap,” said 
Lord Athelstan, 


124 


FEOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


Ah! fchere^s no marrying for love nowadays/^ re- 
marked Grevil, \Yith a portentous sigh. “ The rich men 
are fond of the beauties, and the beauties are fond of the 
poor men, but money always wins.^^ 

But the rich women are fond of the poor men too,^^ 
laughed Sir George — eh, Grevil? There is Miss Wool- 
aston, who would be only too glad to be Mrs. Grevil An- 
son.'’^ 

‘‘ lionet, George exclaimed his friend, with a comical 
look of entreaty. Let me be happy and forget sometimes 
— I donT think I can do it after all. She sends a cold 
shiver down my back every time she looks at me with those 
great black eyes of hers.’’^ 

‘‘ Turn her over to me, Anson,'’ interrupted Warne, 
languidly. ‘‘ She may be as ugly as the devil, for all I 
care, if the tin^s right.'’’’ 

‘‘ Four thousand a year and debts paid,'’^ said Captain 
Anson, pretending to linger lovingly on the words. ‘‘ ISTo, 
I can’t do it at that price. You may go in for her if you 
like, Warne.” 

Thanks,” said Lord Athelstan, with a yawn, as if the 
matter was quite concluded. This and a good deal more 
conversatiou, not quite so suitable for transcription, filled 
up the interval of space until two o’clock, when the guests 
took their leave. 

“ I shall takb two or three of these,” said the Guards- 
man, picking up a handful of fine cigars from the box that 
lay open on the table. 

‘‘ Smoke all, but pocket none,” remarked Grevil, who 
stood by. 

‘‘ Fabian can afford to be generous,” sneered Warne. 

“ Oh, have them if you like,” said the baronet, with a 
good grace, but a slight secret twinge of annoyance. Men 
are not generally fond of having their choicest cigars car- 
ried away. “ These are some remarkably fine ones — I 
have not many, and those only as a great favor. The 
worst of them is that they are not all quite the same — some 
are splendid, and the others just moderately good.” 

“ Thanks,” said Lord Athelstan, coolly filling his cigar- 
case. I hope I’ve lighted on the good ones. Going my 
way?” he asked Alan, carelessly. 

‘‘ N.O,” replied Mr. Fairfax, curtly. ‘‘Good-night.” 
He would rather have gone five miles out of his way than 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


125 


be half an hour longer in the company of that contempt- 
ible hound 

Such was his mental designation of Lord Athelstan 
Warne. 


CHAPTER XV. 

LADY BEATRIX. 

The hands of old grave hearts, 

But our new heraldry is — hands not hearts. 

Shakespeare. 

When his guests had departed. Sir George Fabian took 
up the heap of letters lying upon the mantel-piece, and 
looked hastily at the writing on the evelopes. 

“ Those will keep till to-morrow,^' he said, tossing them 
all back but one. “ Let me see what Mildred says.^^ And 
drawing a candle toward him, he proceeded to peruse his 
sister ^s letter, part of which I transcribe: “We soon got 
tired of Rome after we had seen all the great show places 
— the society was dull, and I had no particularly pleasant 
acquaintances. I am delighted now that we made up our 
minds to stay in Paris, instead of going straight to Eng- 
land, as we at first intended. Everything here looks so 
bright and cheerful. W e have splendid rooms in the Rue 
de Marignan, and go out every night. There are a great 
many English here, and I have m^e some very charming 
acquaintances amongst the first French families. Last 
night there was a delightful ball at the Embassy, which I 
enjoyed thoroughly. Lady Beatrix Wilden was there — 
you remember her at the Harringtons^ — a lovely blonde of 
one-and -twenty. Her people leave Paris at the end of the 
week, but she is going to stay a fortnight longer with me. 
London must be very dull just now, and I am sure you 
have had enough hunting for tliis season. Ho come over 
and join us — my husband is quite anxious that you should. 
I promise you a warm welcome and plenty of amusement. 
Amyas has just purchased a magnificent chestnut — gave 
three hundred guineas for her. He will never ride her; 
she IS much too hot for his nerves, but just the thing for 
you to ride in the Bois. What with your riding and Gul- 
nare^'s beauty (I have christened her Gulnare), you will send 
{HiQ jeunesse done of Paris half mad with envy. They are 


126 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


getting so horsy, and, I am told, buy up all our best 
horses. There is one comfort, they can not ride them 
when they get them. It makes me so angry to see the way 
in which the Paris horses are overdriven; you see noble, 
willing animals with splendid action, raced at full speed 
all up the Champs Elysees, and that steep ascent to the 
Arc de Triomphe, and worried constantly with the whip. 
J believe it is done to take the spirit out of them. Every 
young exquisite has a great houle-dogue, as they call them 
— running under his phaeton — such ferocious-looking 
monsters! That reminds me, I want a pug — please look 
out for a good one; it must have a very black face, and a 
very curly tail. Lady Beatrix was calling on me the other 
day, and seemed as if she could hardly take her eyes off 
Dickinson^s miniature of you,^^ etc., etc., etc. 

“ Not a bad idea,^^ commented Sir George. “ London 
is very dull, and the country worse; besides, I shall be glad 
to see Mildred once again. 

So without further ado he made up his mind to start for 
Paris the day but one following, and penned a hasty ac- 
ceptance of his sister’s invitation before going to bed. 

“I should like to have seen little Olive (what a pretty 
name it is!) before I went,” he thought. 

A few days later he had almost forgotten her in the 
round of Paris gayeties and the fascinating society of’ Lady 
Beatrix Wilden. Mrs. Stanhope, his sister, had invited- him 
with a special purpose beyond her affection for him and 
desire for his society — she wanted him to fall in love with 
her high-born guest — no very difficult task either, as Sir 
George confessed to himself before he had been with her 
three days. Yet it was more that his vanity was flattered 
by the thought of 'winning such a high-bred beauty than 
that his affections were really engaged. They were such a 
handsome pair; every one turned to look after them as they 
rode their fretting horses down the Paris Rotten Row. 
Amazons are not such a common sight there as with us. 
Mrs. Stanhope noted with pleasure the attention they ex- 
cited; she was very proud of her brother, and inclined to 
be equally so of his wife, if she should be Lady Beatrix 
Wilden. The young lady was disposed to receive Sir 
George Fabian’s advances very favorably — thought him 
handsome and agreeable, besides being a most charming 
partner in a ball-room. A week had scarcely passed before 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


127 


Sir George made up his mind that Lady Beatrix should be 
his wife. He confided his ideas on the subject to Mrs. 
Stanhope. 

“ I think you could not possibly do better, George,^ ^ she 
said. “ Lady Beatrix is beautiful, accomplished, and her 
family is one of the oldest in England. Of course we 
know her father is a poor man, and will not be able to give 
her any fortune, but that will make him all the more dis- 
posed to look favorably on your suit. If you take my ad- 
vice, you will not propose just yet, as in that case she would 
probably return to England at once, and it would be a pity 
to have all our pleasant engagements for the next fortnight 
put a stop to. Do you think you can control your impa- 
tience so long?^^ and Mrs. Stanhope put her hand caress- 
ingly on her brother's shoulder. He answered by kissing 
the taper fingers. 

A few days afterward she was rather sorry for the ad- 
vice she had given. A comet had come on the scene, 
which threatened to eclipse all the lesser stars. This was 
the young Duke of Cranston, not yet of age, rather silly 
and very dissipated, but' immensely rich. He seemed to 
admire Lady Beatrix greatly, nor was she by any means in- 
different to his attentions. 

“ I think you should propose at once, George," said Mrs. 
Stanhope in a private conference she was holding with her 
brother. As a parti you have as little chance against 
the duke as he has against you in looks or manners. The 
ball at Madame d'Hericourt's this evening would be an ex- 
cellent opportunity." 

Mme. d'Hericourt's ball-room was fitted up with the 
most perfect taste and richness. Notwithstanding the 
time of year, there were thousands of flowers arranged in. 
gorgeous effects of color. Little fountains tinkled and 
plashed here and there from out thick groups of broad- 
leaved tropical plants, whilst innumerable lights shining 
through the cut prisms of the magnificent chandeliers flashed 
back their brilliancy from the long mirrors on the wall.. 
Mme. d'Hericourt was in fashion just then, and had tho 
pleasure of counting the most distinguished of all nations 
then in Paris among her guests. 

Lady Beatrix Wilden had entered the room behind Mr. 
and Mrs. Stanhope leaning on Sir George's arm. It was a 
matter of course that she would dance the first dance with 


128 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


him — he had not even thought of asking her. But in a 
moment his Grace of Cranston had pu^ed through the 
brilliant crowd, and was by their side. 

“Ah! Lady Beatrix, at last! I have been waiting an 
age for you. Are you ready •’ 

Lady Beatrix smiled in her most winning manner, and 
gently disengaged her hand from Sir George^s arm, to his 
great amazement. 

“ Lady Beatrix dances this with me,^^ he said to the 
duke in a frigid tone, laying haughty emphasis on the per- 
sonal pronoun. 

“ Some mistake, replied his grace, indifferently. 
“ Lady Beatrix promised me the first dance three days 
ago."" 

“ Yes, indeed,"" said the lady, laughing lightly. “ You 
never asked liie,"" she added, turning a half -deprecatory 
looK on Sir George. 

The baronet bowed stiffly. 

“ I beg your pardon,"" he said in the most freezing voice. 
“ I was not aware of a prior claim,"" and he turned away, 
gnawing his under lip in an access of rage and wounded 
pride. 

The Duke of Cranston went off with Lady Beatrix in 
the maze of dances. 

“ I can feel for Fabian"s disappointment,"" he observed, 
glancing at her with undisguised admiration. “ He looked 
awfully sold, did he not, though?"" 

“ He will soon get over it,"" answered the beauty, with 
a bright smile. “ See, he is already consoling himself 
with the charming marquise."" 

“ A very poor exchange,"" murmured his grace, with 
another ardent look at his partner. “ When shall you be 
back in London?"" 

“ I scarcely know. I am to stay a week longer with 
Mrs. Stanhope; then T have an invitation to a most charm- 
ing chdteau twenty miles out of Paris."" 

“ What! to Madame de Boinville"s?"" 

“ Yes."" 

“ What a horrid nuisance!"" ejaculated the duke, 
thoughtfully. 

“ What is a horrid nuisance?"" inquired Lady Beatrix, 
with an arch smile — “ that Madame de Boinville has invit- 
ed me? Are you going there?"" 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


129 


“ De Boinville asked me only yesterday and I refused, 
never dreaming of your being there. 

“ I have not accepted yet— it is not certain that mamma 
will be able to spare me/'’ remarked Lady Beatrix. 

“ But you must go!^^ exclaimed the duke eagerly. “ I 
can soon make^an excuse to De Boinville, and say I have 
put off another engagement on purpose to be at his place, 
and then you know it will be so delightful! Do you 
skate 

“Oh, yes, cried the beauty, enthusiastically; “ it is 
such fun, is it not? I hope niamma will consent to my 
going — she half promised. I shall write to-morrow to per- 
suade her."’ ^ 

“ And you^ll let me know, won^t you?'’^ asked his grace 
earnestly. “ Because if you don^’t go, I shaVt.-’^ 

This was delightful to the ambitious young belle. It 
was evident the duke had serious intentions to her — she 
would certainly go to Mme. de Boinville ^s; a French coun- 
try house would be just the place to bring matters sat- 
isfactory conclusion. ^ 

“What a narrow escape I have had!^^ she thought. 
“ If Sir George had proposed to me three days ago, as I 
thought he would, I should have accepted him, and lost 
the chance of ever being a duchess. Of c(^irse he is much 
nicer than the duke (oh, not to be thought of in the same 
day), but then one can not stop to Reflect upon the degrees 
of niceness in men when one is a duke and the other a 
baronet. 

The fact of being in the land where la convenance takes 
precedence of le cmur, gave additional weight to her reflec- 
tions. Being in high good humor with herself, she felt 
rather sorry for Sir George ^s disappointment; and when, 
after many fruitless efforts, she succeeded in attracting his 
attention, she beckoned him over with her fan. He obeyed 
her gesture, but somewhat slowly and indifferently. He 
had been terribly nettled by her treatment of him, and 
cared enough for her to feel jealous. 

“Am I to have the honor of dancing with you to- 
night?'’'’ he said, holding himself before her with very stiff- 
necked erectness. 

“ Of course you are. Don’t we always dance together?” 
she said, softly, looking up in. his face,, The duke was not 


130 


FEOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


by her side now, so she could treat the lesser star with 
more kindness. t 

“We always have danced the first dance together be- 
fore,’^ replied Sir George, in an injured tone, but evidently 
coming round. 

“ And so we should have done to-night, observed Lady 
Beatrix, soothingly, “ but the duke made me promise, some 
days ago, to dance 'it with him. He made such a point of 
it, I could not really refuse. 

“ He does not seem a very elegant dancer,^^ remarked 
the baronet, with some bitterness, watching the clumsy 
evolutions of the subject of their discourse in the mazy 
waltz. 

“ He does not dance like you,^^ replied Lady Beatrix, 
sweetly; “ but then, you know, a duke can afford to be 
awkward.'’^ This was stiug number two. 

“ Dukes can afford to be anything, and do anything, and 
liave anything, said Sir George, in a low, angry voice. 

“'They can, indeed,'’^ assented Lady Beatrix, innocently, 
feigning not to perceive the tone in which the remark was 
uttered. 

“ Even all your kind thoughts of me?^^ asked Sir 
George, bending down to her, and speaking in a deep, con- 
centrated voice. 

This was very unpleasant. Lady Beatrix thought. She 
wanted to avoid all explanations, and Sir George was evi- 
dently bent on rushing upon them. 

“ Come,^^ she exclaimed, “ we are losing all this beauti- 
ful waltz, and I want your dancing to put me in good 
humor after the last. 

Sir George put his arm silently round her waist with an 
inward feeling of mortification. But he was determined 
that the explanation should come to-night, however skill- 
fully his fair partner strove to avert it. So when the 
dance was over he led her out into one of the dim, leafy 
recesses which abounded at the Hotel d^Hericourt. 

“ It is quite dark here, like a haunt of owls,^^ she ex- 
claimed, laughing uneasily. 

“ WonT you stay here a little?"^ he said, in pleading 
tones. “/ think it is charming. It could not be dark 
for me where you are.' ^ 

“ What a pretty compliment!" returned Lady Beatrix, 
speaking with less than her usual self-possession. It was 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


131 


SO tiresome, too, just when she wanted to avert a pause in 
the conversation, nothing occurred to her to say. 

‘‘ It is a charming ball, is it not?"’"' 

“ It will be an epoch in my life,^^ murmured Sir George, 
in a low tone. ‘‘ It depends entirely on you whether it is 
to be a very happy or an intensely wretched one.^^ 

“ There is Mrs. Stanhope cried Lady Beatrix, in a 
fever of vexation. I think she is looking for us.'’^ 

Do hear me a moment, Lady Beatrix,^'’ uttered Sir 
George, in a tone of entreaty, laying his hand very lightly 
on hers. 

The beauty resigned herself — she knew it must come 
now. 

“ I love you with all my heart, said the young man, 
earnestly, all the fire and energy of his nature coming into 
action. For he was very much in love just at that mo- 
ment. Do tell me you care for me a little! that I may 
have some hope I’ ^ 

‘‘ Oh, Sir George, I am so sorry exclaimed Lady Bea- 
trix, looking as innocently surprised and vexed as if she 
had never dreamed he thought of her. 

Why are you so sorry he asked, slowly. “ Because 
you can not care for me?^^ 

I like you very much — very much indeed,^'’ she said, 
in a troubled voice. 

“ But I do not want your liking,-’^ cried the young man, 
impetuously — I want your love.^^ 

Oh! do not say anything about it — pray do not think 
of it!^'’ exclaimed Lady Beatrix, in entreating tones. 

Do you mean to say positively that you will not accept 
my love?'’^ said Sir George, drawing himself up coldly. 

‘‘ Do not put it so harshly,'’^ murmured the fair one. 
‘‘ Indeed, I feel most flattered, most — 

‘‘ Only I have no chance against a duke,’’^ said Sir 
George, angrily, forgetting his courtesy for a moment. 

You have no right to speak to me in this manner, sir,^^ 
said Lady Beatrix, haughtily. Then she suddenly lapsed 
into a kind, half-caressing way, as if she were humoring a 
spoiled child. ‘‘Pray forget all about it, as I shall — we 
shall always be good friends, I hope. And now let us 
dance this delightful waltz together. I am engaged to 
Colonel Fitz-George, but if he comes I will declare I have 
lost my card, " 


132 


PKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


Sir George obeyed her, very sore at hoart~liis vanity 
was wounded quite as much as his love. When the dance 
was over he went to seek his sister. 

“ Come with me a little while, Mildred,"'’ he said quietly; 
and with unquestioning obedience Mrs. Stanhope put her 
hand on his arm. 

He led her away from the dancers into a most picturesque 
refreshment-room, got up quite in Eastern style, with cor- 
respondingly costumed attendants. Scarcely any of the 
guests were there at the moment, and the sister and 
brother sat down in a dimly lighted corner. 

“ Well, Mildred, I have taken your advice, and received 
my dismissal,’'’ said Sir George, rather savagely. 

Mrs. Stanhope did hot heed the reproach — it was natural 
he should be annoyed, poor fellow ! 

“ It is all through the Duke of Cranston,” she said, in 
vexed toiies. 

Contemptible idiot!” muttered the baronet, angrily. 

“ I wonder if he means to propose to her,” remarked 
Mrs. Stanhope, secretly conscious of a spiteful wish that 
the ambitious beauty might be mortified. “ I have no 
doubt she really cares for you,” she continued, in soothing 
tones; ‘‘ but then you know, dear, no woman in her senses 
would dream of throwing away the chance of a duke. ” 

Grevil Anson’s remark of a few days back came sud- 
denly into the young man’s mind — “ There is no marrying 
for love nowadays.” Only then it had not occurred to him 
that he should ever be in the position of the undesirable 
suitor. It was a great blow to his pride. 

‘‘ I am going off now, Mildred. Shall I take you 
back?” he said presently. I had better say good-bye 
now — you will not be up in the morning before I’m off.” 

‘ ‘ Where are you going, George.?’ ’ exclaimed his sister, 
apprehen sively. 

“ Oh! somewhere — I do not exactly know. To Italy, 
perhaps.” 

Very well, dear,” said Mrs. Stanhope, knowing it was 
no use attempting to stop him, though she was dreadfully 
sorry to lose him. ‘‘ Suppose you go to Home first, and 
then I can tell people that some difficulty has occurred 
about the valuables we bought there, and you very kindly 
volunteered to go at once and settle the disputed matter. ” 

“Thanks!” whispered Sir George. “Don’t tell your 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


133 


husband any more than you can help. And remember 
you have promised to pay me a visit at GabrieFs Wood be- 
fore the season. There is Stanhope — I will send him to 
you. Good-bye, Milly, dear;"’"’ and with an affectionate 
pressure of the hand, brother and sister parted. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


IH ROME. 


Live and let live, as I will do. 

Love and let love, and so will I, 

But sweet for me no more with you 
Not while I live, not though I die. 
Good-night, good-bye. 

Felise. 


In the history of the world, as in our every-day human 
life, there is an ebb and flow of stirring action, of great de- 
sire after wealth, luxury, grandeur, succeeded by a time of 
quiet inactivity, and a longing for rest. 

What influences these changes is a matter for specula- 
tion; there must be some cause for the combined 'rise orde* 
pression of the temperament of nations beyond caprice, for 
caprice would hardly be so general. However it may 
arise, it is certain that at various epochs since the creation 
there have been times of display, of luxurious enjoyment, 
of vicious sybaritical indulgence, followed by the fatigue of 
satiety, and the languor consequent thereupon. Many be- 
lieve in the gradual and steady progress of the world, but 
it seems to me there is no regular scale of rising or falling. 
In some things we advance, in others we fall behind. We 
are certainly not Sybarites nowadays. We may fancy our- 
selves very luxurious and very epicurean in our tastes; but 
our grandest displays and treats are the veriest child’s-play 
compared with the voluptuous magnificence ' of the old 
Romans and Greeks. It may argue moPe in favor of our 
mental superiority and cultured humanity, that we can be 
amused by seeing horses run round in a circus, and tum- 
blers tumble, while clowns crack their rude jokes; instead of 
wanting rivers of blood, and groans of anguish, and death- 
grapples to stir the fire in our sluggish veins — that we can 
sit upright on mahogany chairs, and behave ourselves at 
dinner, instead of lolling about on silken cushions and 
overeating ourselves. 


134 rjtOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 

The old Romans quaffed their goblets of wine, so old and 
rare the date had been forgotten;, but we are filled' with a 
vast admiration of ourhost^s cellar and hospitality, if he 
do but produce us a bottle of ^20 port. Glass is good 
enough for our vintages of to-day; but their Falernian or 
Chiana must sparkle in gold incrusted with splendid gems. 
They had lovely Ganymedes purchased at fabulous cost, to 
serve their Olympian nectar; but we do not grumble at our 
respectable albeit somber attendants, so long as they bring 
round the bottle tolerably often, between the giant thumb 
and finger of the ill-fitting Berlin. The fish with which 
our own coasts furnish Billingsgate are dainty enough for 
our palates — those grand old gourmands must send to 
Britain for their oysters, to Sicily for lampreys, to Corsica 
for mullet. Thank goodness, we donT want human vic- 
tims to fatten our fish in ‘marble tanks nowadays — we do 
not even like to believe that the delicate flavor of our 
stewed eels is attributable to a/eZo de se. 

How comes it that the world has gone back from all 
those grand luxuries and necessities of former times, and 
that we are content with such (by comparison) very mild 
wants and enjoyments? Perhaps because there are years 
and years during which the world (I am speaking of our 
own small civilized corner of it) goes on in a dull jog-trot 
sort of respectability, without any great aspirations or de- 
sires. Our own nation is rising out of just such a time 
now. Our mothers and grandmothers were for the most 
part simple, housewifely folk, attending to their domestic 
affairs, and not concerning themselves very greatly about 
fashion or admiration. JVotis avons change tout cela. We 
are getting very ambitious in these .days; we are not con- 
tent with our own sphere, but must ape our grander neigh- 
bors, have cockades in our servants^ hats, give costly enter- 
tainments, live in big houses, have fine carriages, with a 
couple or more heraldic crests upon them. Moreover, if 
we are not quite so handsome as our friends, we must dye 
our hair, darken our eyelashes, paint . our lips, rouge or 
wliiten our cheeks, and have recourse to a great many de- 
vices for embellishing face and form, that would have 
made our grandams hold up their mittened' hands and 
sigh forebodingly over us. lam inclined to think they 
would have called us painted Jezebels for- our pains. I 
know they would have been horribly scandalized at the 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


135 


difference between our young girls and their rosy-cheeked, 
milk-fed, bread-and-butter misses. When they read with 
mysterious wonder of the vain, luxurious Roman dames 
covering their fair skins with strange cosmetics and costly 
unguents, torturing their hair in coils and turrets, and run- 
ning crazy after the last Greek fashion, how little they 
dreamed of the future years, when their own fair descend- 
ants, in their own virtuous country, would be out-Herod- 
ing Herod! 

I can not say the foregoing were precisely Sir George 
Fabian ^s reflections, but I know he had a great many 
angry thoughts of the women of this time as he wandered 
about the fine old Roman churches and picture-galleries. 
There was a large amount of pride and self-love in his nat- 
ure, and both had been cruelly wounded by Lady Beatrix'* s 
rejection of his suit. Ho man likes to be refused, but few 
men would have been so bitterly galled by a denial as this 
handsome young fellow, who had never known before what 
it was to be out of the full sunlight of woman ^s favor. In 
the rebound his heart yearned after the brown-eyed little 
girl who had been so pleased with his attention — so naive 
and transparent in shewing her pleasure. 

“ She is a dear, simple, natural little soul,'*-’ he thought, 
“ without coquetry, without art, without deceit. She 
would not lead a man on by feigned love to make a fool of 
himself simply for the gratification of her own vanity. 
Perhaps that is no virtue, though,^'* reflected the young 
man, with a sudden cynical reaction; she is too young — 
she has not learned the deceits and trickeries of‘ her sex 
yet."'* 

And then Sir George was seized by a sudden desire for 
the lofe of a pure, unartificial child; he magnified the de- 
lights and charms of such an affection until he became 
quite eager and restless to go to England, and set the seal 
upon his determination. Only one thought retarded his 
decision; he was fond of his sister, and knew that such a 
marriage would disappoint and displease her. She thought 
so much of him — she was so proud, and had always pre- 
dicted his marriage with a woman of rank. He made up 
his mind to rqturn home the following week, as soon as he 
heard from Mrs. Stanhope when she would be ready to pay 
her promised visitdo GabrieFs AVood. He was to join her 
in Paris, and they were to travel home together. 


136 


FEOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


Sir George was lingering over a late breakfast^ when his 
servant entered with a couple of newspapers and half a 
dozen letters. He generally voted letters a nuisance, but 
they were acceptable enough this morning, as he sat list- 
less and wanting occupation. The weather had been very 
bad the last few days. To-day there was a perfect deluge 
— agoing out riding was utterly impracticable. There was a 
long epistle from Captain Anson, containing a good deal 
of racing news, some scandalous on diU of people in ‘‘ high 
life,’’^ a couple of pages devoted to ardent praise of the 
new actress, and in the postscript a little home intelli- 
gence. EtheFs companion was quite a success. Ethel 
had taken wonderfully to her, and the girl was really one 
of the most amusing, good-tempered little creatures in the 
world. She was never in the way, and always ready to 
oblige. Fairfax did not like her — he said she was artful 
and underbred, but then Fairfax, though a capital good 
fellow, and thorough gentleman, was not inclined to think 
very well of women. JSTo wonder, if it was true, as some 
one had hinted, he had been hard hit and badly used by 
one of the dear creatures. Lord Vibart had bought the 
Huntingfords^ place. Such a liberal, gentleman-like fel- 
low he was! Not very young — ^nearer fifty than forty. 
Captain Anson surmised, but ready to enter into any fun 
or amusement. He had given a grand ball, and opened it 
with Ethel, to whom he paid great attention. 

“ I can not say I should exactly like him for Ethel’s hus- 
band,-” concluded the letter, because I doiiT believe in a 
girl of twenty being in love with a man more than twice 
her age. Lord Vibart is tremendously rich, but I would 
rather have haxl you for a brother-in-law ten times over, 
old fellow. Why on earth couldn’t you and Ethel take a 
fancy to each other, as your godfathers and godmothers 
promised at your baptism (stop! I am getting hold of the 
wrong end) — I mean as your parents designed for you? I 
do not think yon will ever be in the same mind long 
enough to propose to and marry one woman; and as for 
Ethel (fond as I am of her) I don’t believe she has an atom 
of heart in her composition — it’s all pride.” 

Sir George read over his other letters, keeping his sis- 
ter’s for a honne douche. She was always amusing, and 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


137 


had «o much news. 1 will transcribe a few lines, to show 
the reader what brought such a smile, first malicious, then 
contemptuous, to the young man^s lips: 

‘‘I have some news that will astonish you. a little. I 
trust you will not be spiteful enough to be pleased at it — 
men are more generous-minded than we are, but it is just 
the thing which a woman would glory and triumph in. 
After you left, the Duke of Cranston was here constantly 
(you will not be offended by these details when you hear 
the sequel), and I was obliged, of course not only to per- 
mit, but rather to encourage his visits. Beatrix wrote home 
for permission to go to Madame de Boinville^’s, and, as 
you may imagine. Lady Wilden^s consent arrived by return 
post. Under the circumstances, Beatrix of course did not 
like to made me the confidante of the duke'^s advances, 
but it was only her sense of good breeding that prevented 
her betraying her delight to me at his unmistakable inten- 
tions. She left me for the chateau, and for some time I 
never doubted that Cranston was there and had proposed 
to her. Judge of my astonishment" when Amyas came 
home one day and told me that he had met the duke driv- 
ing a very notorious personage of the, well — ^not in society. 
It appears that he made her acquaintance two days before 
he was to have gone to the De Boinvilles, and became so 
infatuated that he could not tear himself away, and sent 
an excuse to the clidtean. Fancy what a terrible mortifica- 
tion for Beatrix! She called upon me yesterday, and 
laughed and talked as if nothing had happened. She spoke 
a great deal of you, and looked a long time at your minia- 
ture, and hoped she would see you this season in London. 
I am quite sure she would accept you now if you proposed 
to her.'’'' 

This last sentence caused the contemptuous curl of Sir 
George ^s lip, and make him give utterance to a very un- 
complimentary remark. 

‘‘If she waits until I ask her to become Lady Fabian 
again, she may coijfer Sainte Catherme to the end of her 
days. No, Milly, dear, your brother is not going to be 
taken on those terms — thanks all the same for the well- 
meant hint." ^ 

Sir George wrote ba(^ a very. kind letter to Mrs. Stan- 
hope. 


138 


FllOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


“I 'shall stay here another week/^ he said in it, “ to 
make quite sure Lady Beatrix has left you, as neither in 
Paris nor London have I the remotest desire to renew her 
acquaintance. I should have thought, Milly dear, you 
had a better opinion of your brother than to fancy he could 
ever stoop to ask a woman twice to marry him. Perhaps, 
when the new passion is on the wane, she may catch Cran- 
ston at the rebound; she will, no doubt, be willing to for- 
get and forgive — women 'are so good and charitable. 
There, Milly, you may see by that last speech how cynical 
and disbelieving your brother is getting when he can actu- 
ally write such things to the best and dearest creature in 
the world. I am afraid I really begin to think badly of 
women — they are so artificial, so deceitful, and the few I 
have met lately have not tended to improve my opinion of 
the sex. I shall remain a bachelor, or look out for some 
pretty little innocent bread-and-butter miss, who has not 
yet learned the ways of the world. What say you to such 
a sister-in-law?^^ 


When Lady Beatrix had left Paris, Mrs. Stanhope wrote 
to inform her brother, and a few days afterward Sir George 
joined them in Paris, whence they all proceeded together 
to GabriePs Wood, where they spent a very gay, pleasant 
month before the London season. 

‘‘ By the way, George,^^ said his sister, one day, when 
they were riding together, what did you mean when you 
wrote and told me you thought of giving me some little 
school-girl for a sister-in-law?^’’ 

“ I donT think I said school-girl, Milly — I hate school- 
girls."'’ 

“ Well, it was something to the same effect. I forget 
the exact expression you used. You have no one of the 
sort in view, I trust, dear, have you?"" 

Suppose I had, what then?"" 

Why, I should be very curious to know all about her 
— what her connections were — if she was pretty, and a hun- 
dred other things."" 

‘‘ And suppose, Milly, she was not a beauty, nor rich, 
and that her connections were nothing in particular, what 
then?"" 

“ Oh! I should be terribly vexed; — but I have no fear of 
that,"" said Mrs. Stanhope, smiling uneasily. 


PROM OLYMPUS HADES. 139 

“ Nor need you have, dear/^ laughed Sir George. “ I 
am >well enough as I am. Why should I marry, when I 
have still the world before me? When I am old or sick, 
it will be time enough to get a nurse. 

All the time that the events I have just related had been 
occupying Sir George, Olive had been waiting for him as 
patiently as the Lady of Shalott, or Mariana in her Moated 
Grange. At first she had been so sure of him, she had 
gone singing over the house like a lark in spring-time. She 
was never cross, never passionate now. She was as blithe 
as a May-queen, as sweet-tempered as an angel. No bursts 
of petulance clouded her face, no discontent seamed the 
broad brow.' He would come, she whispered, smiling to 
herself; he niight be long in coming, but he woulLs^i^reJy 
come. For the first few days after the county ball she 
could think and speak of nothing else, and as her sisters 
were not very kind or sympathetic, her delight and, happi- 
ness were confided to Flora Napier. ' The latter had* told 
her, under a promise of the strictest secrecy, that Sir 
George had privately inquired of her the colors Olive had 
chosen for her ball-dress, so there could beoio doubt now, 
even had there been before, that the bouquet came from 
him. Olive never propounded to herself the idea that this 
handsome, well-bred man had fallen in love with and nieant 
to marry her. Young girls'’ dreams are not generally so 
much to the point. He must like her a little — he had 
praised her — he seemed to care to talk to her, and that was 
enough. That was as much of paradise as the poor little 
Cinderella could bear all at once. How she thought of 
him, how she dreamed of him, how he chased every other 
mortal subject out of her mind! Her music-master com- 
plained that she played quite a different tune from the one 
placed before her on the piano; her French-mistress 
scolded her inattention, and declared she lost her place ten 
times ^in a page. Greet had to remind her to change her 
dress for dinner; and altogether the child moved about in 
a happy sort of trance. Every morning when she awoke 
came the thought — perhaps he will come to-day. She 
looked assiduously to see two crows flying together — that 
meant two for joy; and what joy could there be except in 
seeing the handsome baronet? She welcomed strangers in 
her tea, and would not bite them too hard, for fear of 
changing them into ladies. She counted the stones in her 


140 


PEOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


damson-tarts, and was proportionately regretful or consoled 
by what they revealed to her — in face, she did all those 
silly, childish things that very young girls are wont to do 
and to delight in. But weeks went on and still nothing 
was seen or heard of him, and then the poor child began 
to feel sad, and listless, and- disappointed. She took to 
reading poetry, and was never tired of repeating those 
three lines of Tennyson to herself : 

‘ He cometli not,’ ” she said; 

She said, “‘lam aweary, aweary, 

I would that I were deaa!’ ” 

Unconsciously she sighed often and heavily, until Mrs. 
Hamilton would look up quite vexed and say: 

“ My dear Olive, what a shocking habit of sighing you 
are getting into; it is really quite unpleasant to sit in the 
room with you; and I am certain it is veiy injurious to the 
health.'’^ 

And Olive, startled and guilty, would rouse herself from 
a reverie and try to think of it, until five minutes after- 
ward an impsrtiient exclamation from her mother reminded 
her that she had again relapsed into forgetfulness. Worse 
than all, her sisters would sometimes twit her with the ab- 
sence she was so grievously deploring. “We thought you 
had made such a wonderful impression!’^ they would say, 
sneeringly. “ How, comes it that your grand friend has 
not been to inquire after you since the ball? We always 
thought it was usual for gentlemen to do so when they ad- 
mired a lady very much.” 

“ I should think you must have done something to shock 
or offend him very much,” said Mary. 

Poor Olive, in a perfect agony at the suggestion, tried to 
recall everything that had passed between them, hut failed 
to remember having given Sir George any cause for offense. 
On the contrary, his manner had never been so caressing, 
so tender, as when he put her into the carriage and pressed 
her Hand, while he softly whispered good-night. 

Then the poor child took to lying awake of nights, and 
crying very bitterly, often, indeed, falling asleep with the 
great tears lying on her poor little flushed cheeks. And 
when Greet would remark on her swollen eyelids and pale 
face in the morning, Olive would so obstinately deny hav- 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 141 

ing cried that the fond old woman^s suspicions were fairly 
aroused. 

“ Ah! poor soul/^ she reflected, ‘‘ she^s one of them 
that^s always ready to meet trouble half-way; there^s a deal 
o^ sadness in store for her — there always is for them as is 
soon up and soon down. Lord bless the dear child 1^^ 

And Greet, who had some very delicate feeling lying be- 
neath a rough surface, asked no more questions of her pet, 
but only gave her those mute, touching proofs of sympathy 
that afford a very real, if scarcely perceptible consolation. 


CHAPTER XVIL 

AH ARCADIAH TWILIGHT. . 

L’amour est I’histoire de la vie des femmes, c’est un episode dans 
celle des hommes. — Madame de Stael. 

Ohe bright day in June Olive sat reading at the draw- 
ing-room window. The scent of early roses and mignon- 
ette came in to her, wafted by the soft west wind — every- 
thing was sweet, tranquil, and spring-like. 

Mrs. Hamilton and her elder daughters had gone out to 
make some calls, leaving Olive at home alone. She did 
not mind that now. She did not care to go out visiting, 
and as for balls and parties, all the enjoyment seemed to 
have been crowded into the first one, and then to have 
flown away. 

So she leaned back among the cushions in a brown-study, 
Aytoun^s poems lying on her lap, sometimes glanced at — 
oftener laid aside. Now and then she raised her eyes and 
glanced down the green length of the lawn, at tlie river 
gliding along under the shadow of the overhanging trees, 
or dancing and glittering further off in the bright siin- 
light. 

“ He cometh not,^^ she said. 

The words were very doleful in the girPs heart, and on 
her lips, but at the same moment- the door opened, and Sir 
George Fabian was announced. Olive rose hastily — her 
book fell to the ground, and she had gone eagerly forward, 
then stopped, shy and confused, the tell-tale color rushing 
to her face. Sir George came quickly to meet her, and 
looked down into her eyes as lie held her hands. 


142 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


“lam so glad to see you agai^i," he said, in a low voice, 
in which the pleasure was unfeigned. There was no need 
for Olive to reciprocate the feeling verbally, such bright 
gladness danced in her eyes, tlie least observant person in 
the world could hardly have failed to understand her senti- 
ments. 

“ It seems such an age since I saw you, the young man 
went on, after he had taken a chair by the window and sat 
down opposite to her. 

“ It seems years to me,^^ confessed Olive. “ I thought 
I had offended you, and you never meant to come any 
more. " 

“ Offended me? — ^you? As if I could ever be offended 
with you!^^ 

“But I had never been out before, you know, and I 
might have said or done something awkward. Mary 
thought so too.^^ 

“ Ah, you both thought very wrong, then. I should 
have been here long ago, but I went abroad two days after 
the ball.^^ 

“ Abroad exclaimed Olive, to whom going abroad 
seemed a thing not to be lightly undertaken or decided 
upon. “ You did not say you intended going. 

“ Nor did I until I returned to town and found a letter 
from my sister. She gave me such a charming account of 
the pleasures of Paris that particular season, that I made 
up my mind to Join her at once. Do. you know Paris 

“ No, I have never been out of England, I should so 
like to see Paris. 

“ And I should like to be with you when you see it for 
the first time, said Sir George — “ you would be so de- 
lighted with everything. The wonderful Boulevards, full 
of tempting shops, the grand churches, the fine picture- 
galleries, and all the sights there are to be seen. I confess 
I look upon sight-seeing as a bore myself,’’^ continued the 
young man, with an air of languor that Olive thought 
divine. “ I am always heartily glad when I have what the 
Americans call done all the show places. 

“Then you would not like to go with me,^^ laughed 
Olive, “ because I should want to see everything. 

“ I should like to go anywhere with you,^"’ said Sir 
George, looking at her. “ Besides, you would have such 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


143 


fresh and original ideas about everything, it would put all 
before me in a new light. 

“ I donH think I ever shall go” sighed Olive. Papa 
hates being abroad — mamma has often tried to persuade 
him, but he says we must wait until we are married, and 
then our husbands can take us. But that will be a long 
time first — at all events, for me.^^ 

‘‘ Why for you, if I may ask?^'’ 

“ Because Mary and Alice must get married first, said 
Olive, as if she were enunciating the most palpably clear 
doctrine in the world. 

Sir George fairly laughed. 

“ But supposing some one wanted to marry you before 
your sisters — what then?^^ 

“ I donH know,^'’ answered Olive, simply. “ I do not 
think mamma would allow it- — the Fanes never do.^^ 

And may I ask who the Fanes are?^*’ 

They are our cousins, and they are all fair. My elder 
sisters are like them. It is very hard I can not be fair 
too, is it not?^^ asked Olive, appealingly, just as if she had 
some unfortunate brand that stamped her different from 
her species. 

‘‘ ^0,” laughed Sir George, “ I do not admire fair wom- 
en — I would ten times rather you should be as you are.^^ 
Would you. really ?” asked Olive, with great empha- 
sis, as if she could scarcely believe her ears. 

Indeed I would. I think you ten times prettier than 
your sisters, said the young man, delighting to flatter her, 
just because she was so simple, and had such a poor opin- 
ion of her own charms. 

Olive opened her eyes with wide astonishment, and then 
suddenly blushed a rosy blush. 

‘‘ I see you are laughing at me,^^ she said, in a wounded 
tone. 

‘‘ I tell you so because I mean it, and because you do 
not think half enough of yourself, Sir George answered, 
earnestly. “ If you were vain I should be the last to flat- 
ter you. May I go into your garden.^— I want you to give 
me a rose.^^ 

They stepped out of the open window on to the lawn in 
the full sunshine. 

Will you not have a hat.^^^ asked the baronet. ‘‘ You 
will spoil your complexion.-’^ 


144 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


“ I never do wear one just to go out like this,^^ replied 
Olive — “ I can^t bear anything on my head. 

“But a parasol — let me fetch 3^ou a parasol/ ^ remon- 
strated Sir George, who had never been accustomed to see 
women so heedless of their appearance. 

“ You are as bad as mamma, laughed Olive, taking a 
lace shawl that lay on a garden-chair and flinging it over 
her head — “ there, will tliat content you?^^ 

“ Perfectly, with a little addition, uttered Sir George, 
Ijlucking a great crimson rose as he spoke. “ Let me put 
this in your hair,^^ and suiting the action to the word, he 
bent down and placed the flower in the brown hair just 
above the little white ear. 

At this very moment Mrs. Hamilton stepped out on the 
lawn, followed by her daughter. Olive nearly sunk into 
the earth with confusion, but Sir George was in no wise 
disconcerted. He advanced to the astonished mother, say- 
ing: . 

“ I could not resist the temptation of trying to complete 
the illusion — ^your daughter reminded me so of a young 
Spanish lady — 

Mrs. Hamilton smiled graciously. 

“ Do not disarrange it, my dear,^*’ she said to Olive, who 
put up her hand to disengage the cause of her confusion. 
“ Sir George^s taste has wonderfully improved your appear- 
ance.^^ 

The graciousness of her mother ^s speech was like a 
glimpse of paradise to Olive, who had expected some terri- 
ble rebuke and disgrace. Mary and Alice exchanged 
glances, but were very agreeable in their manner to the 
handsome visitor. 

“ I think of coming down to stay at the little inn by the 
river, he told Mrs. Hamilton. “I am getting rather 
tired of London seasons, and I want a little rowing exer- 
cise.'’^ 

“ I hope we shall have the pleasure of seeing you occa- 
sionally,^' remarked Mrs. Hamilton. “Mr. Hamilton, I 
am sure, will be delighted if I can persuade you to dine 
with us. When do you propose coming?" 

‘ ‘ I have taken the rooms for an indefinite time from 
next week," said Sir George. “ And notliing will give me 
greater pleasure than to renew my acquaintance with Mr. 
Hamilton." 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


145 


After a still further exchange of amenities. Sir George 
took his leave, having first received and accepted an invi- 
tation to dinner the following week. When he had driven 
off, the elder girls would have pounced on Olive at once, 
but, to the child ^s great astonishment, her mother took her 
part warmly. 

“ Nonsense, girls she said, decidedly, ‘‘ there is noth- 
ing to find fault with your sister about. It was Sir George's 
whim, and I am sure neither of you would have objected to 
his wishing to make you look pretty. " 

At these words Olive stole a look at herself in the long 
pier-glass. 

‘‘ I suppose there will be no end to your conceit now,'' 
cried Alice, detecting the glance. ‘‘You think you look 
lovely, don't you?" 

“ I think it looRs very well," retorted Olive, with spirit. 
“ I shall always wear a rose just there when I go out," she 
continued, talang it tenderly from her hair. 

If Sir George could only have known how that rose was 
subsequently cherished — how it was put in water upstairs 
in Olive's room until it faded, and then laid in a box under 
lock and key, with her greatest treasures! iBut young men 
have no idea of the vicarious love and caresses their offer- 
ings get from young maidens who have not been spoiled by 
too much admirationi 

And now a time of great delight was opening upon 
Olive's raptured senses. Sir George had come down to stay 
in the neighborhood — he was constantly at their house, at 
the Napiers', where Flora always invited her — on the water 
with them in the evenings, and always by her side. He 
made no pretense of caring for the society of the others — 
all his conversation, all his looks were for her. 

It was no feigned admiration. Sir George was really in 
love with Olive, heart and soul — her innocence, her youth, 
her freshness, her evident delight in his society, made him 
feel an ardent protecting passion for her that was quite a 
new sensation to him. There was not a trace of forward- 
ness or boldness in her undisguised pleasure at his atten- 
tions; it was more because her heart and face were such 
open indexes to her feelings, that he knew she adored him. 

Some writer says (I forget when and where) that women 
desire to love — men to be loved. I hardly know whether 
that doctrine holds good with our sex; but I am quite sure 


146 


FEOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


that with most men the longing to be cared for triumphs 
over other feelings. A man will forgive a woman almost 
anything, if he is persuaded that she really loves him. 

Of course her sisters were terribly jealous, but they were 
by no means so spiteful or cross to her as of old. It oc- 
curred to them that they might be just as well good friends 
with her, in case (although it was improbable to the last 
degree) anything should come of it. 

The baronet'’ s attentions were becoming very decided. 
AVheri he came to dine or spend the evenings with the 
Hamiltons, he always brought Olive some new songs or 
music, or the last new book. We may conceive how intoxi- 
cating all this was to a girl who had never had a lover be- 
fore, or received particular proofs of admiration. 

“My dear John,'’^ said Mrs. Hamilton suavely to her 
husband, “ do you not think it would be almost right to 
sound Sir George as to his intentions?” 

“ Ho, Mary,'’'’ responded her husband curtly. “ I be- 
lieve Sir George to be a gentleman, and it would be the 
action of a dishonorable man to do all in his power to win 
a young girTs affections, if he did not mean to make her 
his wife.'’'’ 

“ But I think, dear, it is only usual under such circum- 
stances. '’^ 

“ It may be very well for men who want to hook a great 
man, or are anxious to get rid of their daughters. 1 will 
not do it,'’’’ concluded John Hamilton, emphatically. 

One day in J uly Olive and her father were left at home 
alone together. Mrs. Hamilton and her elder daughters 
had gone to, a large garden-party and dance; Sir George 
Fabian was in London, and so the lawyer and his youngest 
daughter were left to a Ute-a-Ute dinner. Olive was de- 
lighted — she chatted away to her father, told him all man- 
ner of droll stories, and they were quite merry together. 

“ Really, Olive, '’^ exclaimed her father, with a pleasant 
smile, “ I had no idea you were such good company. See 
how long people may live together and not find out each 
other’s good points.” 

“ Ho you think so, papa?” answered Olive, in glad 
tones. “ But that is not always the case. If I saw you 
alone every day for a hundred years, I could not know you 
or love you better than I do now. But it is a treat to be 
together, isn'’t it, pa 2 )a, dear?” 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


147 


Yes, dear, it is,^^ said her father, fondly. It brushes 
up a worn-out old fellow like me to hear your bright, 
young voice. ^ 

‘‘ Old, indeexi!''^ cried Olive. “ Why, do you know, 
papa. Miss Merton would not believe the other day that 
you were more than forty. 

And so the two prattled on all dinner-time, until Mr. 
Hamilton retired to the arm-chair for his after-dinner nap. 
Then Olive betook herself to the garden, and sat down 
close by the river brink. It was a heavenly evening — the 
sun sinking slowly in a perfect glory of golden clouds, and 
throwing his last warm rays on the broad-leaved chestnuts 
and graceful willows. The sorrowful Cinderella days were 
past now — there were no tears and pouts over torn, frocks, 
no sighs over her unfortunate lot in life any more. She 
was as bright-faced, as glad in heart as any young girl could 
hope to be in this world. All the latent beauties of her 
nature were brought out by the divine sentiment of love; 
all the jmselfishness, the generous-heartedness, the sweet- 
ness of disposition. She had grown almost beautiful in the 
short time since we first saw her — happiness had indeed 
done wonders for her. There was no need now for rebukes 
on the untidiness or negligence of her attire; she seemed to 
have discovered some art of making everything she put on 
look particularly well, and her figure and movements were 
unexceptionably elegant. 

As Olive sat looking at the river, she was thinking of the 
first time she saw the man who had come to fill such a 
large portion of her life and thoughts. She had not grown 
conceited — she was wondering how ^t had come to pass 
that he could possibly think or care anything about her. 
She uttered a long sigh of cbntentment. 

What a glad, happy world it was!— how could people 
ever complain of it, 6r say^it was treacherous and misera- 
ble, and long to be out of it? Several boats passed to and 
fro, some close to the bank, and then Olive would be the 
unconscious object of a good many broad stares and com- 
plimentary remarks. One came nearer than the rest — in- 
deed, up to the landing-place, and it was only as the 
boat^s point touched the wooden steps that Olive looked up. 

When she saw who it was, she jumped up with a little 
cry of glad surprise. 

“ Sir George! I thought you were in London. 


148 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


“ So I should have been, only a good fairy whispered me 
that you would be alone to-night. 

Tell me who was the good fairy 

“ I dare not/'’ he laughed. ‘‘You know, if I revealed 
her name, the spell would be broken, and then there would 
be no hope of her doing me kind services any more. It is 
such a delicious evening — I wish you could come on the 
river with me. 

“ So do 1 ,” said Olive, with a wistful look at the shining 
water. “ But it is no use thinking about it to-night.'’'’ 

“ I suppose not,^'’ assented Sir George, regretfully. 
“ These little country places are so dreadfully given to gos- 
sip. But I shall be very happy if I may stay here with 
you,'’ •’ he added, in an entreating tone of voice, which was 
inexpressibly flattering to Olive. 

He sat down beside her, and they talked together in 
dreamy, half-whispering voices until the light had faded 
out of the rosy golden sky, and twilight had fallen on the 
lawn, the trees, the water, darkening them all into the 
short summer night. The young man had been waiting for 
this half impatiently, but happily enough. He had not 
come without intention on this evening, when he was sure 
of finding his girl-love alone; he had made up his mind 
that the happiest thing in all the world would be to have 
her for his wife. 

The conversation had gradually slackened, the voices be- 
came softer and lower — their inflection more tender. It 
was supreme happiness to sit silent and feel each other’s 
presence in thjs Arcadian twilight. The only regretful 
thought was that there would come an end to it. 

“ Come and look at the water,’'’ ^said Sir George at last, 
giving her his hand to help her to rise. Then they went 
and stood together on the river brink, looking down. He 
had not let go her hand, and after a moment she essayed 
to draw it away. 

“ Won'^ you let me keep it?” whispered Sir George, 
holding it still tighter. 

Olive said nothing, but turned her face half away very 
happy, but a little confused. 

“ I want to have it for mine always, darling,” he said 
softly. Will you give it me?” 

She was still silent, but the little hand fluttered and 
trembled a moment and then stopped where it was. 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 149 

Tell me, Olive, if you love me a little?’^ pleaded tlie 
young man, drawing her toward him with the other arm. 
His lips were so near her face, the girl trembled and drew 
back a little. 

If you will be my wife, let me kiss you, darling!^'’ he 
pleaded; but she drew her hands suddenly away, and hid 
her burning face in them. 

“ Oh, I canT!^^ she cried, in a sudden access of fear, 
wishing in her tremulous emotion that the earth would 
open and swallow her. 

‘‘ W^ll, then, darling, only just whisper ‘ Yes ^ to my 
question. 

“ Yes,’’^ murmured Olive, in a low voice. 

Sir George waited for no furtber permission, but took 
her in his arms and kissed her a hundred times. 

‘‘ DonT be angry with me, darling. I could not help 
it,"’-’ he pleaded afterward. 

He left Olive standing by the margin of the water, whilst 
he went toward the drawing-room window, where at this 
moment Mr. Hamilton's voice was heard calling ‘‘ Olive !^' 


CHAPTEE XYIIL 

THE GOD AMOR. 

O dasz sie ewig griinen bliebe, 

Die sclione zeit der jungen Liebe? 

Schiller. 

ISTeyer was a young girl engaged to the man she loved 
under happier auspices than Olive Hamilton. Her father 
and mother, as may be supposed, gave a glad consent to 
her choice — every one heaped congratulations upon her, 
and her lover seemed as happy in the possession of her 
affection as though he had been going to marry a woman 
of the proudest blood in the land. Had he been ten times 
a baronet, twenty times as rich, Olive could not have loved 
him better — nay, had he been a duke, she was young and 
romantic enough to have refused him if he had not won 
her heart. Her love for him would have been as true, as 
de(jp, if he had been only a government clerk with a hun- 
dred a year. But as a kind fortune favored it, everything 
was couhur de rose, and Olive was as hajipy as a princess. 


150 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


Surely she had the most devoted, the most generous lover 
ever girl was blessed with. When Sir George left her 
standing by the river, he had gone straight in to Mr. Ham- 
ilton, and asked him simply and straightforwardly for his 
daughter. He had spoken as though he sought rather than 
conferred a favor, and had proposed making such princely 
settlements that the father’s heart was swelled with tri- 
umph at his favorite daughter’s good fortune. 

‘‘ After all, my dear,” he said, when he had related the 
events of the evening to his wife, “ your youngest daughter 
has done none the worse for being so unlike the Fanes.” 

“ I am sure, my dear John,” responded Mrs. Hamilton, 
pleasantly, ‘‘ I am quite as much gratified as you are, and 
though, for my own part, I am a little surprised that Sir 
George should prefer Olive to her sisters, I have not the 
least fault to find with his choice.” 

Sir George Fabian was equally happy in his engagement. 
He delighted to heap his dear little fiancee with attentions 
and presents. He brought her a magnificent diamond be- 
trothal ring, much handsomer and more lustrous than any 
her mother wore on grand occasions. Olive was bewildered 
— she could do nothing but look at her left hand furtively 
all the evening, and Sir George noticed her childish delight 
with secret pleasure. Almost every time he came there 
was some costly gift for her — a gold locket, set with emer- 
alds, containing his miniature, an inlaid fan, a double 
smelling-bottle, an ormolu glove-box, filled with the daint- 
iest Paris gloves — anytliing and everything he saw that 
took his fancy. He engaged a celebrated artist to paint 
her portrait, and it was to be hung in the Academy in next 
year’s Exhibition. His fancy was to have her painted just 
as he had seen her first, in the common muslin, with her 
hair twisted in a knot, and her e5"es looking dreamily out 
in the distance. The most difficult thing was to try and 
describe the slight melancholy of her then expression — she 
was so supremely happy no one could realize how she would 
look sad. 

The happiest time was when Sir George took her out 
driving in his phaeton, with the prancing chestnuts — she 
never had experienced such a delicious sensation before. 
She felt so proud at being seated beside this fair young 
gallant — so enraptured by his whispered words of pleasure 
at having her there. The fiery steeds might chase and 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 151 

rear and curvet, the girl did not knoM^ what fear meant by 
the side of her strong, handsome lover. 

One day he drove her up to London to show her his 
mother^ s diamonds, which were being reset for her at Han- 
cock ^s. When she came home she told Greet all about her 
visit in glowing terms. 

Well, my dear," said nurse, caressing her pet fondly, 
“ I do think you We got the real prince out of the fairy- 
tale. 

‘‘ Oh, Greet," exclaimed Olive, ‘‘I am so happy. I 
don^’t think I could complain if I never had any more hap- 
piness all my life long!" 

‘‘ Don^t say that, dear, don^t say that," uttered Greet, 
quickly. “ Having been happy once doesn^t make sorrow 
any easier to bear. It^s harder when you^re miserable to 
remember the pleasant times that have been — ^it seems a 
mockery like." 

Olive was not selfish in her happiness, nor did she feel 
any desire to be revenged on her sisters for their past cross- 
ness and unkindness to her. She persuaded Sir George to 
take them out driving in his phaeton (which was the great- 
est piece of self-denial she could have practiced) ; she begged 
that they might be included in every possible pleasure that 
he proposed for her, and gave a re^y acquiescence to all 
their plans for enjoying her hospitality in the future. 

They praised and flattered her now, and quite forgot to 
taunt her with her dissimilarity to the Fanes. Occasion- 
ally they had terrible fits of spleen at their youngest sisterW 
good fortune, but those they deemed it expedient to keep 
in the background. They busied themselves with her 
trousseau, which Mr. Hamilton had particularly desired 
might be very rich and handsome, and Olive was so high 
up in Olympus, that she was quite content to leave such 
terrestrial matters to .those who could take an interest in 
them. 

The wedding was fixed for the beginning of October. 
Sir George had declared any further delay impossible and 
unnecessary. He had written to his sister in Scotland, 
apprising her of his intended marriage, and begging her to 
come to London to be introduced to his future wife; but 
Mrs. Stanhope had excused herself — she was deeply morti- 
fied at her brother’s choice of a girl whom she chose to con- 
sider so far beneath him, and suffered tbe keenest disap- 


152 


FEOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


pointment at this frustration of her vicarious aspirations. 
But she had sufficient tact to conceal her chagrin, seeing 
he was so infatuated as to be beyond hope of reclaim, and 
wrote him a very kind letter, saying how sorry she was to 
be compelled to delay the pleasure of making Miss Hamil- 
ton’s acquaintance, but Amyas had suddenly decided upon 
going to Baden and Hamburg, and they would go through 
London without stopping. Sir George quite understood 
his sister’s letter; he. knew she was vexed, and refrained 
from pressing the question, fie laughed a little at the 
shallowness of the excuse, reflecting that Amyas must be 
a good deal altered in the last two months if he had ex- 
pressed a decided will which his wife could not controvert. 

‘‘ Never mind,” he said to himself — wait until she 
sees my darling, and then I hardly think she will take 
much exception to the choice I have made of a wife. ” 

So men flatter themselves, and are surprised and disap- 
j)ointed when they can not get the women who love them 
to see the women they love with the same eyes. Miss 
Anson had sent him her kindest, warmest congratulations. 
There was a most gracious letter for Olive, too, full of 
kind expressions and wishes, and speaking of Sir George in 
the most glowing terms of affection and esteem. Later 
on, there avrived a magnificent dressiug-case, witli gold 
and ivory fittings. Miss. Anson’s wedding-present. She 
knew there was very little she could give the baronet, and 
Judged Justly that he would be far better pleased with a 
compliment paid to Olive. 

Mrs. Hamilton was a little disappointed, on consulting 
her future son-in-law, to find that so few of his friends were 
likely to be present at the wedding. He saw and under- 
stood the feeling, and hastened to dissipate the unpleasant 
thoughts the absence of his own family might give rise to. 

“ You see, my dear Mrs. Hamilton, it is such an awk- 
ward time of year — every one is abroad, or in Scotland, or 
in the North, and people will not make the sacrifices to 
come to a man’s wedding that they will for a lady’s.^ Be- 
sides, I am thankful to say I have scarcely any relations; 
and as for my sister, she is so devoted to her husband, his 
wishes are always her first consideration.” 

“ I hope that won’t be entered against me,” was the 
young man’s mental reflection as he uttered that — well, let 
us say misrepresentation. Anything was better than that 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


153 


his darling should feel herself slighted. Mrs. Hamilton 
was obliged to be satisfied with this explanation, although 
she had confidently looked forward to exciting the a^lmira- 
tion and envy of her acquaintance by the grand personages 
who should figure at the breakfast. 

Just to please his future mother-in-law. Sir George 
Fabian took the greatest pains to get his cousin. Lady Raw- 
don, to attend the ceremony. He could not endure her 
husband, and knew that the price of his accepting the 
invitation would be a considerable drawing on his check- 
book for a loan; but sacrifices must be made sometimes. 
Grevil Anson was to be best man, of course, and Sir George 
invited Lord Athelstan AVarne rather against the grain, for 
the express pleasure and delight of Mary and Alice. 

When they heard he had promised to be present their de- 
light knew no bounds — they almost forgot to envy their 
sister, so engaged were they in contemplating the possibility 
of making the conquest of a peer^s son. 

They might well be excused for feeling a little jealousy 
at Olivers brilliant fortune. Sir George seemed as if he 
could not think or do enough for her; he was a most en- 
grossed lover — scarcely able to bear her out of his sight. 

He would not have anything done at GabrieFs AVood 
until she should be there to exercise her own taste. She 
was to have a horse to ride, and ponies to drive; she was to 
be presented at Court; in short, all the glories and mag- 
nificence of a Cleopatra seemed as nothing to Oliver’s be- 
wildered imagination compared with the delights and splen- 
dors that awaited her. She was never tired of expatiating 
on her happiness to her lover, and he was never weary of 
listening to her innocent, girlish delight. 

Mrs. Hamilton and her elder daughters had planned a 
very pretty wedding at the village church — nothing was 
wanting to insure its success but fine weather. Olive her- 
self was most anxious that the day would be bright — she 
could not get out of her head nurse GreeFs old-fashioned 
saying, “ Happy is the bride whom the sun shines on. 

There were to be eight bride-maids in^ white tulle and 
real scarlet geraniums. Flora Napier among the number. 

The day cariie at last, as bright and full of sunshine as 
the most exacting bride could have desired. 

“ I hope I shall look nice. Greet, exclaimed Olive; 


154 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


“ not for my own sake, but his. I should not like him to 
be ashamed of me. 

“ 1^11 warrant he thinks there^s no one there like you/" 
responded her faithful old friend; “ but you mustn"t cry 
at all, you know, dear, or it might make your nose red."" 

“ I should like to look better to-day than ever I did be- 
fore, or ever shall again,"" said Olive. 

And she had her wish, for she really was lovely in her 
white satin dress and the diamonds Sir George insisted on 
her wearing. 

And he looked so handsome himself, that every woman 
present envied the bride, and thought how fortunate she 
was. 

His manner was charming to every one — he won golden 
opinions — the tender glance with which he lifted his wife"s 
veil at the altar seni a thrill of admiration through every 
woman "s breast. 

“By gad!"" whispered Lord Athelstan to Sir James 
Rawdon. “ Fabian "s picked out one of the prettiest little 
girls Fve seen for a long time. He seems to be tremen- 
dously sweet upon her just at present, but that won"t last 
long."" 

“ That very hot devotion is generally an exotic, I be- 
lieve,"" sneered Sir James. 

“ Exotic or idiotic^"" guffawed the young Guardsman, 
thinking he had hit upon a bon-mot. 

“Hush!"" whispered the other, “ you" re interrupting 
the service."" 

Breakfast was over, and the new carriage Sir George had 
bought for his wife waiting at the door. Olive had run 
aside into a little room to wish Greet good-bye privately. 
The old woman was rubbing her eyes and smiling hard — a 
most unnatural effort of the risible muscles. 

“Good-bye, my lady,"" she said, making a sort of 
courtesy. 

“ You ridiculous old thing!"" cried Olive, laughing, and 
then looking ks if she meant to ciy, while she put her arms 
round Greet"s^eck. 

“ There; for goodness" sake. Miss Olive dear, don"t you 
cry!"" exclaimed nurse, in great trepidation.* “ You "11 
spoil those lovely strings, and whatever have you got to cry 
about if it ish"t for joy."" 

“ Good-bye, you dear darling old thing!"" said Olive, 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


155 


with another hug. ‘‘ I hear them calling — must not wait 
another moment. The minute we get back to Gabrieles 
W ood, I shall send for you, and then you are never to leave 
me any more.'’^ 

And down-stairs she tripped to wish everyone a good- 
bye. But she fairly broke down at the last moment when 
her father kissed her and said: 

God bless you, my dear!’^ with a certain tremor in his 
voice. 

Red eyes and spoiled bonnet-strings were all forgotten, 
as she flung her impulsive arms round his neck, and rained 
down tears upon him. But her husband took her hand, 
and placed her in the carriage, and the smile came out 
again from behind the wet eyes, like a rainbow in summer. 
The last thing that caught Olivers eyes was Greet at an 
upper window, showering down a perfect volcano of shp- 
pers after them. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

LUXE EFFR^KE. 

Spring Lids full many buds to swell 
That ne’er can grow to flowers. 

John Clare. 

Ethel Ahsoft and her companions were sitting together 
in a luxurious bay- windowed room, looking over a smooth 
lawn and flower-garden. The room they occupied was 
Miss Anson^’s own private and particular retreat, which 
was never entered save by express permission. It was char- 
acteristic of the imperial beauty whose sway it owned, in 
its excess of elegant richness. Most women would have 
felt uncomfortable in using such costly furniture in com- 
mon, but it was perfectly harmonious to its owner ^s taste 
and comfort. Rich amber satin hangings draped the win- 
dows, just disclosing fllmy lace curtains beneath; all the 
luxurious couches and chairs were of satin-wood, covered 
with the same gold-colored texture. The ground-work of 
the carpet was white and gold, with her^and there a 
gorgeous knot of purple and scarlet flowers^L On the walls 
hung gold-framed oval mirrors; all about/^the room were 
inlaid cabinets, covered with innumerable ’costly knick- 
knacks. On the richly carved mantel-^iiece and taule stood 


15G 


FilOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


spiral bouquet-glasses, containing Miss Anson’s favorite 
coiitrast of scarlet geraniums and dark-blue salvias. That 
slie was a spoiled child may go without being said. She 
held a perfect sway over her father, who thought her the 
perfection of breeding, elegance, and good sense, and, 
consequent, over her father’s establishment. If her caprices 
were rather extravagant, he was rich enough to gratify 
them — he knew she would never exceed the bounds of good 
taste. Besides, Mr. Anson was as weak in will as his 
daughter was strong, and their great mutual affection gave 
her a powerful influence over him. 

Ethel Anson was a strange compound of opposing quali- 
ties — the strongest proof of which was that people either 
adored or hated her. There was no mediocrity about her 
— she was always decidedly one thing or the other. Her 
pride was intense — her brother often declared that the space 
her heart should have occupied was entirely filled up with 
pride. And yet it was the furthest removed from the 
haughty contempt of dependents and inferiors that marked 
the arrogance of aristocrats five score of years agone. 
Nothing could have been more gracious or pleasant than 
Miss Anson’s bearing to those beneath her in rank — her 
reverence for age was excessive. She possessed a great gen- 
erosity and kindness of heart, and was magnanimous in the 
true sense of the word — petty feelings had no place in her. 
It may be wondered, after so much said, how the chief 
characteristic of her nature was so clearly evident to every 
one who approached her. Perhaps in the extreme haughti- 
ness of her carriage and bearing; perhaps in the lingering 
defiance from her splendid eyes; perhaps: — ^but why specu- 
late upon causes when it is only necessary to prove effects? 

She valued rank, beauty, and wealth to a degree that 
was excessive. She did not despise people for being poor, 
or plain, or ignoble, but to herself the former attributes 
were life and soul. Though neither vain nor conceited, 
she yet knew exactly the amount of homage her charms de- 
manded, and received it as a natural tribute. She was not 
the least offended when people disliked her, and rebelled 
against her proud sway. “ I can always please when I 
choose,” she said, with grand simplicity. 

Ethel Anson was a woman who, if she gained a mail’s 
affections, gained them heart and soul. It was no half 
devotion she inspired — any one who once loved her had no 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


157 


eyes for other women. The greatest wrong of which she 
had. to accuse herself was giving men encouragement to 
adore her, with the perfect consciousness that she never in- 
tended anything more toward them than the pleasant pass- 
ing of a tedious hour. She had her own ambition, and 
was. working steadily toward her goal. Unable to win the 
one she sought, she would never have turned aside to a 
lower aim. ‘‘ Au^ Gmsar aut nullus ” might very well 
have been her motto. 

Miss Anson intended to make a grand alliance — one that 
should be worthy in every respect — with the trifling excep- 
tion of her affections being concerned. Meantime she ac- 
cepted the homage and devotion of handsome young men, 
who were entirely out of the running for matrimonial 
schemes, and had not, or feigned not to have, the slightest 
idea that she was guilty of cruelty or injustice in encourag- 
ing them with her caressing manner and kind glances. If 
they were so foolish, so overweeningly conceited as to im- 
agine that ambitious Ethel had any thought of marrying 
them, why, the sooner they were undeceived the better; 
and there remained nothing for this splendid young Juno, 
Semiramis, Cleopatra (she had been named after each of 
these imperial beauties), but to give them their co7Ufe. 

Captain Anson had been terribly angry once after one of 
his' great friends had been summarily dismissed, and com- 
plained bitterly to his father. 

“ You ought to put a sto.p to it, sir,^^ he cried, indig- 
nantly. 

My dear boy, you are unreasonable,^^ Mr. Anson an- 
swered, with his accustomed easy language. “ Do people 
ever dream of putting out a candle because half a dozen 
foolish moths fly into it and singe their wings? They must 
pay the penalty of enjoying the brightness.-’^ 

“It seems to me you are unreasonable, sir,” retorted 
Grevil, angrily. “ I hardly see why a good-hearted, gen- 
tleman-like fellow as ever breathed should be jilted and 
made wretched, just to gratify the capricious folly of a 
yain woman 

“Softly, Grevil, if you please,^ ^ returned Mr. Anson, 
with a shade more energy than usual. “ Ethel can not 
marry every man who happens to fall in love with her; 
and who ever heard of an elegant, accomplished woman 


158 


mOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


tliat half a score of men did not profess to break their 
hearts about?'’"’ 

“ I say/^ said Grevil, warmly; “ that any other woman 
who acted as Ethel does would be called a jilt. 

“ I beg you to remember that your sister is a lady, and 
I forbid you to use such a word in connection with her in 
my presence!’"’ cried Mr. Anson, with unusual displeasure 
in his tone. I am sorry for your friend,'’"’ he continued, 
more kindly, “ but if he chose to act like a presumptuous 
fool, he must take the consequences of his indiscretion. ” 

‘‘ Presumptuous fool, begad!” muttered Grevil, as he 
turned away. !No wonder that Ethel has such lofty 
aspirations, when my father fosters her insane pride in 
this manner!"” 

Miss Anson and her companion, as we said before, sat 
together in the golden room. It was a hot August after- 
noon, inspiring a general sensation of languid inertness, 
and the two ladies seemed indisposed for any greater exer- 
tion than a desultory conversation. Ethel lay half reclined 
among the amber cushions, which gave a dazzling effect to 
her clear skin. A soft white muslin, trimmed with deli- 
cate lace, only half concealed her beautiful neck and arms, 
while on her breast was a knot of her favorite blue and 
scarlet flowers. She held in her lap the perfection of a 
tabby kitten, which elicited a laugh every now and then 
from her red lips as it engaged in some quaint, graceful 
gambol. 

‘‘ Do ring for Haughton to put back that shutter,” she 
said presently, turning to Henrietta with a sleepy, indolent 
grace. “ The sun is off the room now, and there is scarcely 
a breath of air. '’ ’ 

‘‘I will do it myself,” responded Miss Erench, rising 
with alacrity, and pushing back the Venetian shutter. 

Thanks — that is much better,” and Ethel gave a sigh 
of relief, followed by a slight yawn. “ I wish some one 
would come — it is very dull.” 

“ Captain Huntingford, for instance,” suggested Hen- 
rietta. 

‘‘ Yes, he is very agreeable. Don"’t you think so?” 

“ I never had an opportunity of Judging,” replied Miss 
French*, looking up with a smile. ‘‘ AVhenever I have been 
in his company, unless you were there too, he never has 
had a word to say for himself —he seemed to be ^ sighing 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


159 


like a furnace/ or me(^itating ‘ a sonnet to his mistresses 
eyebrow/ 

“ Fancy Vivian Hun tingford writing a sonnet laughed 
Ethel. “ Poor Vivian 

‘‘You would rather he should go straight across country 
and shoot well than have him sitting at your feet reciting 
poetry /e said Henrietta, shrewdly conversant with Miss 
Anson^s opinions. 

“Of course I would exclaimed Ethel, with unusual 
energy; “ I hate your whimpering Rizzios and Chastelards 
— I like a man to be big and fair and strong, able to win 
nien^s respect for his courage and strength; and yet not 
too proud of mind to let a woman influence him.'’^ 

“ Clever men will not often do that,^^ remarked Hen- 
rietta. 

“ I don^t care for clever men,^'’ retorted Ethel. “ Give 
me a man with brains enough to make a gentleman of him, 
who shall win my respect by his truth, his honor, his cour- 
age, and let him be so magnanimous, so generous-hearted, 
and love me so much that I shall be able to persuade and 
influence him to my every thought and wish.^^ 

“0 subtle doctrine!^'' laughed Henrietta; “ten times 
more calculated to sap the foundations of male supremacy 
than all the shrieking outcries for women ^s rights of our 
transatlantic neighbors. My dear Miss Anson, have you 
considered that if all men were as you would have them, 
and all women desired the same as you, it would be one 
world-wide system of petticoat government? And then 
adieu to peace, justice, and impartiality!^^ 

“ JSTay, there I do not agree, because where a woman 
has such unbounded influence, I consider that she would 
be base and unworthy, unless she exerted it all for good, to 
make the man she loved still more noble, more just, more 
upright.'’^ 

“You are judging other women by yourself,” answered 
Miss French, with a well-feigned earnestness that was the 
most subtle part of her tact. “ How many do you think 
have minds balanced like yours? how many could win the 
devotion from men that must be obtained before a woman 
can exercise such unbounded influence over them?^^ 

Henrietta had found out long ago that commonplace 
flattery was not available for her present patroness, and so 
had recourse to that kind which is far less easily detected. 


160 


FEOM OLYMPUS TO HALES. 


and takes tlie semblance of admissions wrung forth by 
strong conviction. The two women had been together 
nearly a year^^ and were great friends. Miss Anson had 
long felt the want of some one to act as friend and '^confi- 
dante, some one with whom she could speak familiarly of 
the daily incidents of her life, and no one could have been 
better adapted to the post than Miss French, who seemed 
to be full of discretion without prudery, and interest with- 
out curiosity. 

“ It is not only beauty that gains such attractive power 
over men like Captain Huntingford and Lord Vibart,"’ 
continued the companion, subtly, after a pause. 

A smile hovered on Miss Anson^s lips. 

“You flatter me,^'’ she said; but her words were hardly 
sincere. 

“ You know best whether I flatter you,^^ replied Hen- 
rietta. “ Though it is hard on one of them, since you can 
not marry both. 

A look of sudden sadness came into EtheFs eyes. 

‘ ‘ Of course I can not marry both, she repeated slowly. 

“ And when you are engaged to Lord Vibart, he will 
scarcely like Captain Huntingford to be always with you. " 

The afternoon must have changed, for Miss Anson shiv- 
ered suddenly, and rose from her couch., She had forgot- 
ten the kitten, which would have fallen, but for plunging 
its claws into the fragile muslin. “Was I so cruel as to 
forget you!^^ cried the girl, taking up the soft little strug- 
gling puss, and holding it against her face. “ You absurd 
old Filosel!^^ she added, laughing at her skye-terrier, who 
was sitting up begging, as though he wanted his rival cast 
into his devouring jaws, “ what are you looking so miser- 
able about? are you jealous of my pretty little Topsy?^^ 

At this moment, as Miss Anson made a charming sub- 
ject for a painter, a third person came upon the scene, who 
glanced at the laughing beauty with eyes of unmistakable 
admiration. 

“ Captain Huntingford!^^ cried Ethel, in accents that 
betrayed no feigned gladness. 

“ What punishment will^you deem severe enough to my 
trespass in the enchanted garden asked the , new-comer, 
taking the gracious hand extended to him, at the same 
time giving a courteous bow of recognition to his lady- 
love’s companion. 


PROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


161 


** Punislimentr^ said Miss Anson, gayly; ‘‘we shall 
command you to put to flight an intruder who arrived be- 
fore you, and whom no commands or prohibitions can ex- 
clude. Miss French and I are suffering terribly from 
ennui,^^ 

“ You have indeed set me a difficult task,^^ said Captain 
Huntingford, gallantly. “It would be impossible for me 
to realize, far more to discover such a presence here.-’"' 

In a few brief words I must describe to you the only 
man who had ever won Miss Anson^s love. She scarcely 
dared admit even to herself how dear he was to her, since 
the idea of marrying him was as impossible as for Tantalus 
to reach the water, Ixion to stop the wheel to which he 
was bound, or Sisyphus to plant his stone on the summit 
of the Plutonian mountain. 

Vivian Huntingford was tall, fair, and strong, as Ethel 
had declared the man whom she loved should be. His hair 
was the Saxon gold color, and he had the bright clear com- 
plexion of Northern nations, just sufficiently bronzed to ex- 
clude the suspicion of effeminacy. The large, deep-blue 
eyes looked out over cheek-bones rather high and slightly 
flushed, which has the effect of giving a handsome, some- 
what haggard look to men, though it is harsh in women. 
Every feature was good, but, above all, a certain thorough- 
bred look stamped him as peculiarly gracious in the ej^es of 
women. Not particularly clever, but generous and honora- 
ble to a degree — ^in fact. Miss Anson had, unconsciously, 
perhaps, described him accurately in her ideas given to her 
companion of what a man should be. He was the third 
son of Sir Ashton Huntingford, who the year before had 
been compelled to sell the old family estate to meet his own 
and his eldest son^s extravagance. The second son had the 
handsome family living, and Vivian, the third, was a cap- 
tain in the army, with his pay and five hundred a year that 
an aunt had left him — an income just sufficient for a young 
man to hold up his head in society, but what for a woman 
who wanted driving-horses and riding-horses, a box at the 
opera, a town and country house? ^He knew perfectly well 
that he had no chance of marrying the woman with whom 
he was so passionately in love, yet he remained day after 
day in her, dangerous presence, content with the sunshine, 
so long as no one came between it and him to eclipse the 
light. Every house in the county was open to him, such 
0 


1G2 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HAUES- 


a favorite he was. Just now he was enjoying the hospi- 
tality of Mr. Fairfax, who loved him as a brother. 

The afternoon was no longer tedious. Time did not 
lag, now that the company would have been well content 
for him to slacken his scythe^ and let the sands dawdle in 
his hour-glass. He hurried on apace amid much jesting, 
laughing, and exchange of wit, for each one of the trio h^ 
the gift of conversing brilliantly in congenial company. 

By and by Miss French glanced at the fanciful gilded 
time-piece. ' 

“It is half past six,^^ she said to Ethel, “ and your papa 
will be returning from Felsenham. Did he not say some- 
thing about your meeting him?^^ 

Ah! it will be pleasant to breathe the air, now that it 
is cooler,^^ assented Miss Anson, rising. 

“ I will bring you your mantilla,^'’ said Henrietta. 

“Oh! thanks-^onT trouble — ring for Purcell. You 
will come too?^^ 

But Miss French was already gone, and in a moment the 
maid came with the lace shawl. 

“ Miss French begs you to excuse her, ma^am — she has 
a letter to write. 

Captain Huntingford and Ethel strolled out of the win- 
dow, and across the lawn, toward the lanes which led from 
Felsenham. They made such a handsome couple, as they 
moved side by side, glad and light-hearted at being to- 
gether. 

“ You will dine with us to-night, of course,^ ^ said Ethel, 
with a pretty, imperious manner, that seemed to say, “ I 
know my will is law to you. ■’ ^ 

“ Not to-night, thank you, Miss Anson, he returned, 
with an accent of regret. “ Fairfax will be alone. 

“ And is Mr. Fairfax so nervous or so exacting that he 
can not be left alone 

“ Exacting! — not he! — ^he^s the kindest, easiest fellow in 
the world to live with. But you know I am his guest, and 
one owes a certain amount of consideration to oner’s host.^^ 

“I can not q^uite understand Mr. Fairfax, remarked 
Ethel. “ Sometimes he reminds me of a disappointed 
man, and yet there is nothing bitter or cynical about 
him.^^ 

“ I have heard he was treated very badly by a woman 
once, but I never asked him, nor did he ever volunteer me 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


163 

any confidence on the subject. It is hard to be jilted, you 
know. Miss Anson. ” 

‘‘ Oh! do not use that horrid word. Captain Hunting- 
ford!^^ exclaimed Miss Anson. “ I detest it. 

‘‘ You are right — it is a horrid word,^^ assented Vivian; 
“ but it can not hurt you or me to name it, since you will 
never be guilty of the action, and I shall never suffer it 
from a woman, 

‘‘ Why do you say that?” asked Ethel, perplexed. ‘‘ Are 
you then so secure?” 

Yes! — because I shall never ask any woman to be my 
wife."" 

‘‘ How? Sir Galahad?"" laughed Ethel. 

“ I shall never love but one woman so long as I live,"" 
said Vivian gravely, and assuredly, I shall never ask her 
to marry me. "" 

Why?” asked Ethel, comprehending him perfectly, 
•and yet taking a strange kind of pleasure in making him 
say these things. 

‘‘ Because my love is a grand lady, worthy of a coronet, 
and I have neither rank nor wealth to offer her, "" answered 
Captain Huntingford, simply. 

“ How can. she be worthy of your love if she can not 
make a sacrifice for it?"" said Miss Anson, with a perverse 
curiosity. 

‘‘ Because she is as different from other women as the 
moon is from the^ stars,"" replied Vivian, quickly, as if im- 
patient at the bare suspicion of any unworthiness in his 
idol; ‘‘ because luxury is as necessary to her as air to us, 
or water to fishes, and she would die if she were taken out 
of her element."" 

“ Then she must be selfish and egotistical,"" remarked 
Miss Anson, with an expression of something between pain 
and laughter in her eyes. 

Vivian glanced at her with a smile that had some mel- 
ancholy in it. _ 

“ She is my ideal of perfectioil^ he said. My love 
need be no secret,"" he added; ‘‘ you know that you are ten 
times more to me than all the rest of the world."" 

Ethel was in a strange mood to-day. She meant to be 
kind, but it was in truth cruel of her to speak as she did. 

‘‘ Do I not care for you too?"" she broke out impetuous- 
ly, Why are our women"s natures so mean, so pitiful. 


164 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


SO grasping? Why canH we take happiness and worth as 
it comes to us, without laying down certain grooves and 
trammels for our feet, out of which we have no courage to. 
step?^^ 

“It shows how noble your nature is that you should 
have those thoughts,'’^ cried Vivian, eagerly, defending her 
from himself; “ but it is the fault of circumstances that 
women can not tear themselves from the things their edu- 
cation has made them value. Ah! Miss Anson, so long aa 
I am with you, so long as I can feel that no one has a 
stronger claim upon you than I, I am almost reconciled to 
the impossibility of hoping for you. 

Ethel turned one bright, kindling glance upon the hand- 
some, generous lover. She knew she did not mean to 
marry him, but she loved him none the less in that mo- 
ment. 

“ Let me kiss your hand,^^ said Vivian, in pleading 
tones, and Ethel held it out to him, as an empress might 
have done. He pressed a fervent kiss upon it. 

At this moment Mr. Anson and Lord Vibart rode up 
the glade. 

“ What a charming picture I uttered his lordship, look- 
ing, though, as if it scarcely pleased him. 

Mr. Anson smiled. He was not a match-maker, and did 
not in the least mind Lord Vibart^s having been a witness 
to the act of homage performed to his imperial daughter. 


CHAPTER XX: 

TEARING THE HEART-STRINGS. 

Tw'ain halves of a perfect heart made fast 
’ Soul to soul as the years fled past, 

Had you loved me once, as you have not loved. 

Had the chance been with us that has not been. 

Triumph of Time. 

Eor the last ten months Henrietta's existence had been a 
very different one front any she had known before. Sud- 
denly transplanted info lut^ury and ease, her ambition was 
yet higher, her longings more unsatisfied than ever. She 
was treated with the greatest consideration. With the ex- 
c3ption of grand balls and dinners, she nearly always ac- 
companied Miss Anson into society, and was perfectly 


FROM OLYMPUS' TO HADES. 


165 


familiar with the details of that high life which in former 
years she had so yearned to know of. Her notions were 
more exalted now. It was a mortification to her to be noth- 
ing but the companion, treated kindly and courteously 
enough, it was true, but still keenly conscious of the in- 
feriority of her position She liked, she admired Miss 
Anson, but how she envied her? To be so rich, so elegant, 
so much admired, ah! there was happiness! And yet, 
spite of all, Henrietta avowed to herself that the possessor 
of these rare gifts was neither a happy nor a contented 
woman. 

“ She does not know how to enjoy,^^ Miss French solilo- 
quized. ‘‘ Ah! if I had a tithe of her riches, her beauty, 
her position, how happy I should be! But she is too am- 
bitious ever to taste real happiness, and, moreover, just 
now love and pride are terribly at war. She will not sacri- 
fice the last to the first, or — mon Bieul what a handsome 
young fellow Captain Vivian is, and how he adores her! 
Ah! it would be worth something to be loved like that— if 
one could afford to accept and return such a passion,^ ^ 
added Henrietta, with a regretful sigh. 

Meanwhile our little adventuress left no stone unturned 
to make herself necessary to her present patroness. She 
on no occasion obtruded her presence when it was not de- 
sired, but had a happy knack of always being in the way 
and out of the way at the right time. Never for a moment 
did she forget her tact, but studied perpetually to please 
Miss Anson, without invariably agreeing with what she said 
—knowing that simply to echo opinions is not the way to 
please a frank, straightforward nature. Her great aim 
was to be amusing without an apparent effort, and she suc- 
ceeded so well that Ethel never tired of her society. 

Sometinies Miss Anson went away for a few days pn a 
visit, and then Henrietta remained studiously in her' own 
apartments, unless Mr. Anson sent particularly to request 
her company. Then she would read, talk to, or write 
for him as much as he pleased, and be so gay, sprightly, 
brilliant, and withal so deferential, that he was charmed 
with her. 

Mademoiselle had her own designs: she was flying for 
very high game, but so innocently, so cleverly, that no one 
suspected her for a moment. One time, when Captain 
Anson had been at home, he had seemed disposed to pay 


166 


FEOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


her a good deal of attention, and to follow her about more 
than his stately sister quite approved. Henrietta, how- 
ever, was discreet. She treated Grevil with marked re- 
spect, but avoided his glances and his company so firmly 
that Ethel was soon persuaded she had no cause for anx- 
iety. This little episode redoubled her opinion of Miss 
French. “ Many women in her position would have been 
so delighted and flattered, they would have immediately set 
about trying to marry Grevil," reflected Miss Anson. 

‘ ‘ But she does not seem to care at all for men. I think 
she must have had a disappointment. " Her apparent in- 
difference to the other sex was so naturally counterfeited 
that Ethel at last forgot to wonder at it. Henrietta spoke 
frankly of her plainness, of the consciousness of her want 
of power to attract, and the imperial beauty came at last to 
treat it as a matter of course that her companion was in- 
different to men, and unconscious of even a desire to excite 
their interest or attention. She even took pains to dress 
her better, and to impart more style to her appearance. 
Henrietta, though always striving to gain the quiet air of 
breeding habitual to the people amongst whom she lived, 
was at no pains to make herself look handsome — on the 
contrary, she dressed herself dowdily, and arranged her 
hair in an old-fashioned manner that made her appear ab- 
solutely insignificant. 

She was secretly anxious for Miss Anson to be married, 
and frequently in conversation with her vindicated the 
value of rank and wealth, while affecting to shudder at the 
misery of genteel poverty, knowing well the bias of the 
proud mind she appealed to. 

“ There seems scarcely anything derogatory in real want 
and starvation,-’^ she said, as they were sitting together 
one evening in the golden room. “ One knows that 
beauties and heroines have been reduced to such straits be- 
fore now; the thing that is really degrading is a limited in- 
come in good society. My dear Miss Anson, picture to 
yourself a high-born girl — in your position, let us say — 
living in a seventh-rate house, with inferior servants, and 
driving about in a hired fly. Fancy an elegant woman, 
utterly inexperienced in the vulgar details of domestic life, 
having to look over the tradesman's books, and to despair 
over a good plain cook, who has about as much idea about 
flavoring gravies and frying fish as of speaking the dead 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


1(37 

languages. A very gallant enamored young husband 
might Submit to the injury of his gastronomic functions 
for a few months, but love does not long survive bad 
cookery. My lord would dine at his club, and my lady 
would break her heart at home over a mutton-chop. Then 
fancy being asked out to dinner in a patronizing sort of 
way — placed a long way off the host, and knowing you had 
not the slightest chance of being able to return the some- 
what slighting hospitality. Some natures do not mind tak- 
ing all they can get, but noble minds would die sooner 
than endure the weight of an obligation they can not re- 
turn.^ 

Miss French uttered these little remarks with a half- 
light, half-serious manner, perfectly conscious in secret 
when a shaft pierced the joints of the harness. She wanted 
Miss Anson to be Lady Vibart, and Ethel was quite dis- 
posed to share an earffs coronet. 

There were two reasons why Lord Vibart had not asked 
the beauty, whom he so evidently admired, to be his wife. . 
In the first place, he had a man^s usual repugnance to the 
idea of being married rather for what he had than for 
what he was. His nature was frank and generous, but he 
was very diffident in his power of making a young and 
beautiful woman care for him. 

He was forty-seven years old, although there was a 
healthy freshness of look that made him appear younger — 
but so far from aiming at juvenility in dress or manner, 
he rather affected older and more sedate habits th^i even 
his age warranted. Until recently he had quite relin- 
quished all idea of marrying and had seriously entertained 
the view of adopting his nephew, a handsome lad now at 
Eton, as his heir. Lord Vibart when quite a young man 
had been engaged to a beautiful girl, who was burned, to 
death a fortnight before they were to have been married. 
Until now no one had ever approached toward filling the 
void her death had created in that faithful heart. But 
now Lord VibarUs sincere admiration for Miss Anson was 
growing into something warmer — as time after time he 
watched her filling the place of hostess so graciously, he 
began to have more tender thoughts than the simple desire 
to see such an elegant woman at the head of his table. 

To-night, when he saw imperial Ethel receiving the 
tribute of homage from the handsome young soldier, a 


168 


PROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


strange new pang of jealousy crossed his heart. He could 
not help contrasting himsfelf unfavorably with this blue- 
eyed, distinguished-looking gallant, and said, a little bitter- 
ly for him, in his generous heart: 

“A man as good-looking and as poor as that young 
Huntingford has some chance of being loved for himself. 

And strangely enough poor Vivian, going home discon- 
solately, had said to Mr. Fairfax during their tete-a-tete 
dinner: 

“ Hang it all, one has no chance against a fellow with 
Vibart^s rank and wealth. 

“ In love do you meari?^^ asked his host, with a slight 
emphasis. 

“ I mean in marriage,^^ replied Vivian, with a disconso- 
late smile. But perhaps you donH consider the terms 
synonymous.'’^ 

“ I suppose your chance depends more on the ambition 
of the lady than on your actual means. 

“ You call things by too harsh names, Fairfax,^'’ re- 
turned Vivian, deprecatingly. “ You would not call a 
hungry man greedy because he took a hunch of bread and 
meat that was offered him, instead of a slice of thin bread 
and butter. Well, you know luxury is as much a neces- 
sity to a delicately nurtured woman as bread to a starving 
man. ’ 

“ I don’t quite follow you, my dear boy,” said Mr. Fair- 
fax; “ the analogy of the cases does not force itself very 
strongly upon my mind. I see that you evince the gener- 
osity of your nature by making all sorts of excuses for the 
woman you love; but that does not prove to me that her 
wants are anything more than the dictates of a selfish am- 
bition. At all events, if she knows she can not give up 
her vanities and fripperies for your sake, why does she not 
let you go?” 

‘‘Because I am a fool and choose to stay,” returned 
Captain Huntingford, despondently. 

“ Vivian!” exclaimed Mr. Fairfax, earnestly, “ why do 
you not try and throw off the infiuence of her fascination? 
Be brave, and act on the words of the old song — 

“ ‘ If she be not fair for me, ^ 

What c;are I how fair she be?’ ” 

“That’s the very devil!” cried Vivian. “I can’t go 
away, because it would drive me mad to think she was fair 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


169 


for somebody else. I can bear to think she is beyond me, 
but I can not stand the thought that she is within the reach 
of some other fellow — Vibart, for instance, curse him! No, 
I don^t mean that — he^s as good a hearted fellow as 
breathes; but I should hate any one else who wanted her 
like the deuce 

Two months had passed — it was now the end of October, 
and Lord Vibart had proposed to Miss Anson and been 
accepted. The evening of the day on which Ethel had 
consented to be Lady Vibart she was more gay, more brill- 
iant than usual. She accepted the congratulations of her 
father and brother and Miss French with the most charm- 
ing grace in the world; and when she went to her room, 
she sent away her maid, and throwing herself on the floor, 
cried and sobbed piteously, ‘ ‘ Oh, Vivian, Vivian, my dar- 
ling!^^ 

When a nature so strong and proud gives way, it is ten 
times more terrible in its suffering, more real in its anguish 
than milder, weaker ones. Until the present time, Ethel 
had never realized what it was to love one man and marry 
another. It had seemed easy enough to resolve in her im- 
perious mind on the acceptance of rank and state and the 
relinquishment of love; but now that her strength was put 
to the test, her whole heart rose in an agony of revolt. All 
that night she fought out the battle of passion against will; 
she was too honorable to permit her thoughts to dwell on 
one man, having accepted another. 

In the morning her pride had triumphed, and she sailed 
down-stairs to breakfast as grandly, as smilingly as if she 
had slept soundly and dreamed pleasant dreams, instead of 
half -breaking her heart the night before. 

The pleasant rides and walks with Vivian Huntingford 
were at an end now — there should be no more glances, no 
more soft tones, no more hand-pressures between them 
forever. All these sweet remembrances were given up in 
the pursuit of happiness. For is not the goal to which every 
mortal runs, or tries to run, happiness? Some take the 
steep paths of ambition, some the broad, flowery ones of 
vic^i^d folly; but how few choose the humblest, albeit the 
smokiest one of simple loves and simple pleasures! 

Ah, me! what misery one wrong decision may plant in 
our hearts for all our lives! Herod might cry his piteous 
laments — might haunt his golden palace with the echoes of 


170 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


bitter wailing for his beautiful Mariamne — but no heart- 
breakings could bring back the victim of one fatal decision 
— the miserable consent. 

Captain Huntingford was not long in hearing the tidings 
of Miss Anson^s engagement. He said nothing — only 
turned very white and sick. All the next day he was rest- 
less and uneasy — he paced to and fro like a chained lion, 
groaning now and then between his closed lips. Suddenly 
he took a decision, and strode out of the house toward the 
lanes that led to Anson Court. He went in at the lodge 
gate, and straight to the house. Half-way up the broad 
plantation he came suddenly upon Miss Anson. She was 
alone, sitting upon a huge log by the way-side. . When she. 
saw him she would have risen, but he prevented her, and 
sat down by her side. It went to Ethers heart to see how 
worn and haggard his handsome face looked. For a mo- 
ment his mouth worked and quivered so that he could not 
speak, and then he said, looking at her with a sort of de- 
spair in his eyes, ‘‘Is it true?^^ 

It was no time for equivocation — ^for feigned misunder- 
standing, and Ethel said, “ Yes,^^ simply, and heaved a 
short, impatient sigh. 

There was silence between them then — a long silence, 
bitter enough for both. 

Then he turned to her slowly, and said, “ Ethel 

There was such despair — such misery in his voice, she 
looked at him quickly, and put up her hand deprecatingly. 

“ HotiT say anything to me, Vivian,^'’ she implored, 
calling him unconsciously by his name; “it is decided — 
I have given my word. Do not try to shake my resolution.^ ^ 

A sudden passion, a sudden despair came into his heart, 
and he threw his arms round her, and buried his face in 
her lap. She did not attempt to move, but remained 
breathless as if chained down by the very strength of his 
grasp. She had a strange kind of remorseful feeling that 
she had wrought this terrible, crushing misery, and must 
bear the outbreak of it. 

“.My darling, tell me you will not marry him!^^ Vivian 
gasped out at last. “ I love you so dearly, God help me!” 
and the brave young soldier, weak as a girl for the mo- 
ment, shook and trembled as he had never done from phys- 
ical i)ain or fear. 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 171 

Ethel shut her lips and eyes with a sudden strong effort 
of will. 

“ Captain Huntingford, this must not he!--’ There was 
ten times more entreaty than command in her tones. 

Why not, if you love me, darling?^-’ he uttered, in 
pleading tones. “ Until now I always saw a wide gulf be- 
tween us — now my love fills it up. I shall go mad or die 
without you. My darling, I -will make you so happy, if 
you only trust me.-’^ 

If intensity of earnestness could have prevailed his words 
should have moved her to compliance; but he only plunged 
the sharp regret deeper into her breast. 

“It cannot be,^^ she said remorsefully. “For pity^s 
sake do not urge me! You torture me horribly, and no 
good can come of it. I have promised to be the wife of an 
honorable man. My very listening to these rash words of 
yours is treachery to him. Captain Huntingford, you are 
a gentleman — need I say any more to you?’^ 

He rose to his feet, and Miss Anson rose too. 

“ I beg your pardon,^^ he said with a kind of proud hu- 
mility: “ I ought to have known it must cOme to this.^^ 

“ And I have so much to blame myself for,-” Ethel said, 
with gathering tears in her proud eyes. “ I should like to 
think, before we say a long good-bye to each other, that 
you forgive me?’^ 

“ Forgive you! — for my own folly! Grant me one favor 
before I go, and I will never trouble you any more, " and 
Vivian looked beseechingly at her. 

“ Anything that I may fairly and honorably do.^^ 

“ TeU me if you ever loved me a little, and I will go con- 
tent. 

“ I can not,^^ said Ethel, sorrowfully — “ it would be dis- 
honorable to Lord Vibart.'’^ - 

“ Good-bye,-’-’ uttered Vivian, in a choking voice, with 
one long glance at her as he held her hand. Then he turned 
and went slowly away without once looking back. 

There were three heavy hearts that autumn afternoon 
for the same cause that has been so fruitful of sorrow ever 
since the world began — a fair woman. 

Lord Vibart had been an unintentional listener to the 
last few words between his beautiful and Captain 
Huntingford. He had come across the woods to bring Miss 
Anson a magnificent betrothal present, and, passing at the 


i'J'2 FKOM OLYMPUS TO HABES. 

back of the plantation^ had heard their parting words. He 
had stopped abruptly, from a delicacy of feeling, not wish- 
ing them to be aware of his presence; then he turned, and 
walked noiselessly back into the woods, and stood there 
leaning sadly against the knotted trunk of one of the old 
trees. I could not truthfully say he was surprised or taken 
unawares by what he saw, for he had known, as every one 
else knew who saw them together, that Captain Hunting- 
ford was in love with Miss Anson, and now and then a se- 
cret fear had gnawed his heart that Ethel cherished a 
warmer feeling than regard for the handsome young soldier. 

Lord Vibart sighed heavily as he thought over this un- 
expected confirmation of his fears. 

“But she is a noble girl, and I may safely trust my 
honor in her hands, " he said to himself. 

And with this meager, unsatisfying' consolation, he 
walked on to the Court to deliver his present.. 


CHAPTER XXL 

A BKESBEM SHEPHERDESS. 

Turn red or pale, would often when they met 
Sigh fully, or all silent gaze upon him 
With such a fixt devotion that the old man, 

Tho’ doubtful, felt the flattery, and at times 
Would flatter his own age in wish for love. 

And half believe her true. 

Vivien. 

The month of November had come, and Ethel, in spite 
of her dislike to London out of the season, had ventured 
into the metropolis of fog and gloom for a few weeks, on a 
visit to Lord V ibarPs mother. Miss French had not ac- 
companied her, for the old lady wanted to have her favorite 
son^s betrothed alone. The time had fairly come now for 
Henrietta to pave the way toward her heart’s ambition. 

It had been arranged that Mr. Anson should pay a visit 
to a friend in Ireland during his daughter’s absence; but 
having taken a slight cold, and being at all times nervous 
about himself, he elected to remain at Anson Court until 
he should be sufficiently recovered to take the journey with 
comfort. For several days after Ethel’s departure the 
weather was cold and rainy, so that Mr. Anson found the 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


173 


time hang heavy on his hands, and sent very frequently to 
Tequest Miss Frenches company. She always came down 
with a bright smile on her face — so glad to be of use, so 
delighted to read, sing, or talk to the fancied invalid, that 
he began to think her the most charming companionable 
little body in the world. She told him such amusing stories 
about life in the Paris boarding-house, such witty anecdotes 
and sparkling repartees, that he laughed until he was fairly 
tired out. With some surprise he remarked that she had 
improved wonderfully in looks during the last few days, 
and, with man-like unsuspicion, attributed it to her in- 
creased vivacity and animation. A woman might have 
been tempted to ascribe the heightened color of her cheeks 
and the dark brilliancy of the eyes to something more than 
the excitement of trying to amuse an elderly man, and 
might have been disposed to make some ill-natured remark 
on the increase of care displayed in the toilet. 

Henrietta was gifted with a very beautiful neck and 
arms, and for the first time since she had been at Anson 
Court she displayed them at dinner. Very modestly, for 
the dress was only cut square in the front, and the sleeves 
descended with a frill of lace to the elbows, but there was 
quite enough visible to charm and surprise the master of 
the house. Evening after evening passed, but Miss 
Frenches stock of conversation never seemed to diminish 
or lose its piq^uancy, and Mr. Anson began to find, for the 
first time in his life, that he did not miss his daughter's 
absence. 

‘‘ I shall never care to live here alone after Ethel is 
gone,^^ he thought. “ Miss French, of course, will not be 
able to stay on. I shall have to look out for another wife. 
Why should I be condemned to a solitary old age?^^ 

The thought of marriage in connection with Miss French 
did not occur to him at first — it was only one evening, 
when the conversation turned upon his daughter's marriage, 
that the idea flashed across him. 

“ It is very hard to have no settled home,'’^ Henrietta 
said, her eyes filling with tears (she took good care they 
should not run down her cheeks). My happy life during 
the last year has spoiled me for the miserable drudgery of 
teaching thankless children, or being the snubbed com- 
panion of some vulgar woman. My highest ambition once 
was to live with refined, well-bred people; but I almost re- 


174 


FROM OLYMRtJS TO HARRS. 


gret having had my wish granted, the thought of leaving 
them is so bitter to me. ^ ■’ 

“ It will be a source of most unfeigned regret to me 
should we be compelled to part, I assure you,’’^ replied Mr. 
Anson, suavely, ‘‘ but in such an unfortunate case, I should 
do my utmost to secure your future comfort.'’^ 

^ “I shall never meet any one like Miss Anson — or like 
you, sir,'’ ^ said Henrietta, with a li ttle upward glance, and 
a tone that bespoke some emotion. 

Mr. Anson was touched. 

“ I trust so, my dear — I trust so. For myself, I have 
really had so little opportunity of — of showing my regard 
for you. 

“ Indeed, cried Henrietta, fervently, no one ever 
treated me with such courteous kindness, and — Here 
she stopped, blushing, as if confused at her own boldness. 

“ Poor little thing thought Mr. Anson. “ How very 
impressionable she is!’^ 

“ My dear Miss French,^’ he said, aloud, you really 
think too much of trifles. Pray— pray — •’•’he continued, 
deprecatingly, observing that Henrietta was becoming more 
and more agitated. 

“ Excuse me,’^ she said, recovering herself. ‘‘ I must 
seem very foolish to you, but the fact is I have been rather 
agitated to-day, and am hardly myself.^'’ 

“ Indeed!’^ responded Mr. Anson, sympathetically. I 
am quite concerned to hear that. You have not received 
any bad news, I trust?" 

“ No, not bad news,^ -’ answered Henrietta, with a de- 
spondent smile. ‘‘ Indeed, I suppose I ought to consider 
it good news, but I am so perplex^ how to act, so terribly 
in need of counsel, and so unfortunately placed, that I 
have no one to whom I can apply for advice. •’•’ 

“ If I can serve you in any way. Miss French, pray com- 
mand me,^’ said Mr. Anson, with an air of interest. 

“You are very, very kind, sir,’^ uttered Henrietta, in a 
low voice; “ but I should not presume to trouble you with 
such humble affairs as mine.'’^ 

“ I assure you I shall only be too happy to be of use to 
you — I take a very great interest in you, believe me,^’ and 
Mr. Anson’s face assumed an expression that Miss French 
saw for the first time. It pleased her very well. 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


175 


‘‘ My trouble is an offer of marriage/^ she began, looking 
down shyly. 

^ “ Marriage repeated Mr. Anson, and Henrietta fan- 
cied she detected just the slightest shade of chagrin in his 
tone. 

“ I ought to be pleased and thankful,^ ^ she murmured; 

but I can not bear the idea. 

‘‘ Y^ou do not care for the gentleman who wishes to mar- 
ry you, I presume 

“ I used to fancy that I did.^^ 

“ And since when have you discovered an alteration in 
your feelings?^^ 

‘‘ Ever since, began the impulsive Henrietta; then 
dropping her eyes, she continued, in a low voice, ‘‘ I hard- 
ly know."'^ 

“ Am I incautious in asking you to be a little more ex- 
plicit with me?^^ asked Mr. Anson, in a tone of interest. 

I should be so glad to tell you all about it, sir, if I 
did not fear to intrude upon your kindness. 

‘‘ Banish that fear, then, my dear Miss French — I shall 
have a deep interest in this affair which concerns you so 
nearly. 

After a slight pause, which was necessary for Henrietta 
to get over her basliful^ess, she commenced: 

“ When I was living with my aunt I made the acquaint- 
ance of — of the person I was speaking about. He was not 
rich or good-looking, but he was extremely kind to me; 
and you know, sir, it was so very, very dull for me — (this 
is an apologetic tone). 

‘‘ To be sure, to be sure,"'^ acquiesced her listener, with 
sympathetic courtesy. 

There was no engagement between us. He was going 
out to Australia, and before he went asked me, if ever he 
became well off, would I join him there. I neither said 
‘ Yes ^ nor ^ No;^ but I must be frank with you, sir, and 
tell you that 1 allowed Iiim to believe that there was some 
hope of my accepting him at a future date. I have just 
had a letter, in which he tells me that he is prosperous in 
his slieep-farming, and begging me to join hin^ without 
delay/ ^ 

‘‘ And — you think of doing so?^^ 

“ I should ]iot have liesitated a moment about my answer 
liad I been likely to rcmdin with Miss Anson/'’ answered 


176 


FEOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


Henrietta, sorrowfully: ‘‘ but anything seems better to me 
than the prospect of being dependent among strangers, 
after the life I have lately been accustomed to.'’^ 

‘‘ It is very hazardous to go so far to meet a man toward 
whom your feelings are unsettled,’’^ said Mr. Anson, with 
an interest which surprised even himself. 

Miss French knew her strong point. She clasped her 
hands together, pressed her pretty arms down on the table 
with a convulsive movement, and looked suddenly up with 
imploring eyes. 

“ What ought I to do, sir?^^ she uttered, in a tone of 
entreaty — “ I do not care for him.^^ 

Write and tell him so,^'’ replied Mr. Anson, quickly. 

Henrietta's eyes dropped. 

“ And yet it is terrible to go out into the world again. 
You need not — at all events not yet. Anson Court 
shall be your home as long as you please to make it so/^ 

“ Only until next month, murmured Henrietta, sighing. 

“ I shall be away for some time after my daughter '’s 
marriage — the house will be entirely at your disposal.^'’ 

‘‘ You are very good, sir,’’"’ Miss French answered sorrow- 
fully; but a grand house would have no charms for me 
when the people I cared for had left it. I fear I have no 
alternative but to accept his offer, and she looked unut- 
terably miserable. 

‘‘ I should advise you not to decide hastly upon so im- 
portant a step,^^ urged Mr. Anson. ‘‘ Perhaps we may be 
able to find some other way out of the difficulty, and he 
looked with something akin to admiration at the quaint, 
shepherdess-like figure on the opposite side of the table. 

Henrietta made a sudden effort to recover herself, and 
began to laugh and talk more brilliantly than ever; but 
she took care to let her companion see that this ebullition 
was. only the hollow mockery of woe, and that she was 
crushing down the real bitterness of her feelings in the at- 
tempt to minister to his amusement and pleasure. 

“ Poor little soul! she seems deuced cut up,'"’ thought 
Mr. Anson, quite touched by her silent suffering. 

When they parted for the night, he pressed her hand in 
a reassuring manner and said: 

‘‘ Always remember that you have a friend in me.^^ 

Henrietta looked up suddenly, with more tears in her 
eyes, ^he said pothing, but tiffs time she alloweff the 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


177 


glittering drops to trickle down her cheeks, because no one 
would be able to see the streaks they left, as she was about 
to retire to her own room. 

Mr. Anson went to the smoking-room for the customary • 
half cigar before going to bed, but on this occasion he was 
so absorbed in reflection, that he forgot to leave off until 
he was reminded of his unusual excess by a scorching sen- 
sation at the tip of his nose. His thoughts had been of the 
poor, homeless little companion. 

“ Deuced hard upon her to go all that way to marry the 
fellow^ and then to find, perhaps, when she gets there, 
that she does not care for him! ^Pon my soul I pity her! 
— and she is capital company, too! I do not think I should 
miss Ethel half so much if I had this girl to talk to; but, 
of course, it will not do for her to go on staying here after 
EthePs marriage, unless — ‘ After all, why should I not if 
I choose? — it is very hard upon me to be left all alone, with 
no one to care for me. Of course, as long as Ethel was at 
home, I should never have dreamed of marrying again, and 
she is too sensible to make much fuss about it. No doubt 
it would be a mesalliance y but I have married a woman of 
good family once, and the estate is entailed upon Grevil. 
Miss French is quiet and lady-like — I might do worse — a 
lively young wife w^ould make one ten years younger. 

The more Mr. Anson thought over the' subject, the 
better the idea pleased him, and every time he met Hen- 
rietta he felt more fascinated by her. She, seeing the im- 
pression she had created, made superhuman efforts to 
attract him still more toward her. The result was what 
she ardently desired, yet scarcely dared to hope for. But 
when Mr. Anson offered her his hand she made no ex- 
uberant show of joy — only responded by an almost rever- 
ential gratitude. She deferred humbly to his least^ish. 
When he hinted, delicately enough, that he should Jsjtefer 
no mention of what had happened, until after Miss Anson^’s 
wedding, she recognized and concurred in the position at 
once. 

‘‘ I can afford to wait,^^ thought our little adventuress. 

“ My Australian lover was a splendid idea. I wonder how 
he gets on with his sheep-farming!^^ and she laughed quite 
merrily. “Ah! my Henrietta,^ ^ she murmured, “your 
wildest dreams did "not conceive this good fortune. How 
indescribably better to be the wife of a solid English squire 


178 


FHOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


than of a poor crapaud of a baron. Uun est vraiment 
grand — V autre tranche du grand. My very aristocratic 
and fine seigneur, whom I treat with such humble rever- 
ence, how I shall twist and wind you round my little fin- 
gers and Henrietta looked complacently at her small 
white hands. 

Mr. Anson did not for one moment regret the step he 
had taken, but he was anxious that no one should have any 
suspicion of his intended marriage until after his daugh- 
ter^'s wedding. He did not imagine that either Lord Vibart 
or Ethel would very strongly resent his taking a new wife; 
but, at all events, he preferred not to risk any unpleasant- 
ness in the meantime. To avoid exciting suspicion in the 
minds of the servants, he gave orders that preparations 
should be immediately made for his journey to Ireland. 

‘‘ As soon as Ethel is married we will go to London for 
our own wedding, and then you shall spend the rest of the 
winter in your favorite Paris, if you like,'’^ he said tenderly 
to Henrietta. She clapped her hands with child-like 
gayety. 

“How delightful! and how good you are!^^ she ex- 
claimed, holding up her face simply to his parting salute. 

Then, when he was gone, she proceeded to refiect wLether 
it would be safe to trust herself in the gay city, where she 
had formerly known so many people. 

“ Bah!^^ she said, at last, with a real Parisian shrug, 
after musing over a variety of pros and cons. “ When I 
am once established I shall know better than to make my 
life a burden with the everlasting fear of being found but. 
Fas si Mte. What if I were detected?’ What if Eene him- 
self confronted me? My one talent was not given me for 
nothing, and if I can not make my lord (when he is my 
lord) believe anything I choose — well, I shall be unworthy 
of my good fortune. I wish I loved him. I never saw 
but one man in the world I could have given up everything 
for. If I had the slightest chance with him, I would have 
given up my present prospects a hundred times over. But 
it is no use thinking of him now. Pshaw I she finished 
impatiently, “ if a well-born beauty like Miss Anson can 
not have the man she loves, what^chance has a poor little 
adventuress like me? Will she be very angry, I w^onder? 
Will she refuse to acknowledge her ci-deimnt companion 
as the mistress of Anson Court? And if she does, guHm- 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


179 


pOrte f But, no, I think she will have sense enough to 
make the best of it. She is not like the silly people who, 
when a member of their family makes a bad match, parade 
all the worst features of the case to the contemptuous curi- 
osity of the world. Captain Grevil is too easy-going to 
make much fuss. I fancy the people who will be fnost dis- 
gusted will be the servants; but if I see any symptoms of 
insubordination, I will turn all the old ones off, in spite of 
their twenty years' service." 

Miss French was already, in anticipation, playing the 
role of the beggar about to mount his steed. It must be 
admitted she had been obliged to walk a long way before 
she got a chance of a ride. When Miss Anson returned she 
found Henrietta as dowdy as ever — the piquant little 
Dresden shepherdess, who had taken her father's fancy, 
had vanished, and only the plain companion remained. 

I do not mean to lose sight of you," Ethel said, kind- 
ly. “ You will remain here until I return from Italy, and 
then you must come and stay with me until you make up 
your mind what you would like to do." 

‘‘You are very good," said Miss French, with humility; 
“ but I shall be unable to accept- the first part of your 
proffered kindness. You understand, I am sure, now I 
mention it, though I dare say it would never have occurred 
to you, my position in the house would be rather an 
anomalous one when you had left it. Mr. Anson — " 

“ I never thought of that," cried Ethel, in vexed tones. 
“ Never mind — we will arrange something." 

The same evening she broached the subject to Mr. 
Anson. 

“ You know, papa — though, of course, the idea is ridicu- 
lous, and you will laugh at me for saying so, but I have 
been thinking it will hardly be quite the thing for Miss 
French to remain here after — after I am gone." 

“ The same idea occurred to me some time ago," said 
her father, quietly. 

“ But what shall we do with her until I return?" 

“ Perhaps she has some friends who will be glad to have 
her for a few weeks." 

Mr. Anson was rather disgusted at the hypocrisy into 
which he was forced, but since he had resolved to keep 
silent for the present on the matter, he saw no other 
alternative. 


180 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


The wedding was to be a very grand one, as befitted the 
bride^s rank, station, and ideas of magnificence. The only 
compensation for the relinquishment of her lover was the 
display to the World of the splendor of her new appoint- 
ments and belongings. 

The day came at last — a coM^ clear December morning. 
The wedding was a grand pageant for that simple country 
place, attended by a bevy of fair women, a host of gallant 
men. Rare fiowers were strewn in the bride^’s path as 
plentifully as through the summer^ s sun had warmed them 
into blossoms. 

Miss Anson looked no pale, drooping, broken-hearted 
maiden. She was a proud, beautiful woman, assuming 
with dignified grace the position for which she was born. 
If it cost her a secret wrench to lose the man whom she 
had really cared for, the keenest observer would have failed 
to detect a trace of her regret. She was neither weak nor 
foolish enough to let her thoughts dwell in secret upon a 
love she had herself put away. Lord Vibart could not 
have trusted his honor to a worthier keeping than proud 
Ethel. If women as a- rule had as loyal hearts, as firmly 
purposed notions of honor as she we write of, there would 
be fewer blighted lives, fewer suffering and remorseful 
hearts. Is it fair for a woman to take all the wealth, lux- 
ury, and kindness a man gives her, and then to despise and 
hate him because he has not been able to win her love? 
Thus Ethel thought, and thus she acted. The very fact 
of her not loving the husband she had chosen, made her 
manner to him more considerately gracious, more scrupu- 
lously kind. 

Understanding her thoroughly, he loved her with a depth 
of tenderness a younger man could hardly have felt. If 
he suffered keenly at the thought that she had loved some 
one better than him, it was almost more for her than him- 
self. In the loving generosity of a noble man^s nature, he 
pictured to himself how by a thousand attentions, the study 
of her every wish, he would endear himself to her, and win 
her affection at last. He would have infinite patience, in- 
finite tenderness for her, and her nature was not one to ^ 
resist such kindness. 

^ So, after all, though on the bride ^s part it was a mar- 
riage of interest, it was not likely to be altogether unhappy 
and uncongenial. 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 181 

Three weeks later another wedding was celebrated in 
London. Very quietly indeed, without the slightest pomp 
or show, although it was a grander match for the bride 
than the one which had taken place so short a time pre- 
viously. Henrietta French, on the day of her marriage 
with Mr. Anson, reached the culminating point of her am- 
. bition. Her bark was safely anchored at last in a con- 
venient harbor. She feared no revelations now, no circum- 
stances she could not control. She had passed the age, she 
told herself, when young women feel a repugnance to being 
an old many’s darling. Besides, Mr. Anson was not an old 
man yet. Only fifty-four, and most personable besides. 
She thought she should be rather proud of him, and for 
her! Ah! he would soon find out that Mrs. Anson was a 
far more attractive personage than the dowdy companion. 

The bride and bridegroom went to Paris to spend their 
honey-moon. Once more Henrietta was in her beloved 
city, with wealth at her command (after all, there is not 
much pleasure to be had in Paris without), and this time 
with a position of agreeable respectability, not that weari- 
some phase of it which had nearly driven her mad a few 
years before, but a sedate dignity, a comiortable security, 
which was infinitely new and pleasant to her. 

Mr. Anson felt bound to inform his daughter of the step 
he had taken, and although so far satisfied with it, the 
task was an unpleasant one. He abhorred contention and 
family differences — in short, everything that militated 
against his own personal comfort. And even in his most 
sanguine moments he dared not hope that his daughter 
would receive the announcement of his marriage with com- 
placency. It would be excessively unpleasant if she refused 
to recognize the wife he had taken, or to abstain from visit- 
ing at his house — in fact, it seemed as if the natural posi- 
tion of father and child were likely to be reversed, and he 
was to be in an uncomfortable dread of the result of his 
communication to her. He summoned up courage at last 
and wrote the letter, giving reasons for what he had done 
at such length that he felt it was an admission of weak- 
ness. 

In course of time an answer came, which perplexed and 
perhaps annoyed him more than any other mode of treat- 
ment could have done. Lady Vibart wished him every 
happiness. She refrained from any comment on his mar- 


182 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


riage, or allusion to her own intentions with regard to 
recognizing the new Mrs. Anson, Her letter proceeded to 
speak of her own movements and affairs, and she signed 
herself his affectionate daughter. 

Mr. Anson was inclined to be cross and captious after 
the receipt of this highly unsatisfactory missive; but Hen- 
rietta was so charming, so vivacious, so full of amusing 
reminiscences, that he forgot his annoyance, and assured 
himself that he had done the most sensible thing possible, 
and that even if every friend and relation he h^ in the 
world cut him, he would derive more amusement and hap- 
piness out of his little wife than they could possibly have 
given him. 

And she is really getting quite pretty; her taste is per- 
fect, her manner charming, and, egad! how fond she is 
of me!^^ was the bridegroom^ s concluding reflection. 


CHAPTEE XXII. 

THE FIRST SPECK OK THE HORIZOK. 

The fair each moment rises in her charms, 

Repairs her smile, awakens every grace, 

And calls forth all the wonders of her face; 

Sees by degrees a purer blush arise, 

And keener lightnings quicken in her eyes. 

Pope. 

Sir George and Lady Fabian arrived atGabriePs Wood 
in the middle of January. They were.to have returned to 
England for Miss Anson^s wedding, but Olive having a 
cough and cold, her husband was so solicitous about her, 
that he would not allow her to run the risk of any undue 
exposure. 

She had been a little disappointed, her desire to see her 
new home was so strong; but any unpleasant feeling could 
only be transient, so long as her handsome young husband 
was by her side. 

His presence would have made the dreariest place home 
— his absence taken the sunshine out of a palace. Their 
three months^ honey-moon had been very happy. Sir 
George was unwearying in showing her all the wonders of 
the different places they stayed in, and watching her lively 
pleasure and wonder. The last month had been spent in 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


183 


Paris. Walking one morning up the Boulevard des Itali- 
ens, they had come suddenly upon a lady and gentleman. 
Sir George greeted the latter very cordially, the former 
with some surprise and hesitation. Then he introduced 
Olive, saying : 

Mr. Anson, this is my wife.^^ 

Mr. Anson shook her warmly by the hand, and looked 
admiringly at her bright face; then he turned to Sir George 
with a shade of constraint, saying: 

‘‘ I have to ask your congratulations too — this is my 
wife,'^ and he drew Henrietta forward. 

Olive was so taken by surprise for the moment, that she 
could scarcely return the sprightly salutation offered by 
Mrs. Anson. Surely — surely this was the ci-devant gov- 
erness of the Slaters, or never were two people so wonder- 
fully alike. But Mrs. Anson greeted her as a perfect 
stranger — there was not the slightest shade of recognition 
in her face or manner. 

The two gentlemen walked on together — the ladies fol- 
lowed. Half a score of times a question was on Olivers 
lips, but she felt a delicacy in uttering it, as her compan- 
ion showed no disposition to broach the subject. Before 
separating, the party agreed to dine together, and go to the 
theater afterward. There was a great sensation piece on 
at the Ohatelet, which Olive had for some time past been 
anxious to see. She was conscious of a slight disappoint- 
ment when the gentlemen arranged that they should all go 
together. 

“ George!^-’ she exclaimed, the moment she was alone 
with her husband, I am certain that Mrs. Anson was once 
the Slaters’ governess. What was her name before Mr. 
Anson married her?” 

“ French — she was Lady Vibart’s companion.” 

Then of course it is the same. How odd that she 
never made any allusion to having seen me before! She 
must lave known that I recognized her.” 

What a wonderful difference dress makes!” remarked 
Sir George, reflectively. ‘‘ I always thought her plain be- 
fore. ” 

‘‘ But she is plain, George— very plain.” 

No, darling, I don’t think that— there is something 
excessively piquant, about her. Did you notice how all 
the Frencnmen stared in passing? She has the peculiar 


184 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


greenish-gray eyes that are so much admired in Paris. 
Certainly circumstances alter cases. When I saw her be- 
fore she was so quiet and subdued, and hardly looked at 
one. Now— 

‘‘ Don^t let us talk about her any more/^ said Olive, a 
little jealously. “ I do not like her. I wish they were not 
going with us to-night. 

My dear child, I thought you would be delighted to 
have a woman to talk to once more — it will be a pleasant 
change for us both to have fresh companions.-’^ 

Foolish Olive was hurt by that , last speech, not meant 
unkindly in the least, and the tears came into her eyes. 
She was unusually silent all the way home, and Sir George 
began to reflect that it was a good thing they had met some 
one they knew, for they were rather in danger of seeing 
too much of each other. 

In the evening when the party met at the appointed 
cafe, Olive was amazed at the wonderful transformation in 
the Slaters’ governess. Henrietta’s eyes sparkled through 
the dark lashes (surely they were* light before), her com- 
plexion hitherto so dull and leaden was perfectly brilliant. 
She had a profusion of fair, waving hair, her teeth were 
pearly white, and altogether her appearance was undenia- 
bly attractive. The toilet, too, was unexceptionable — per- 
haps there was rather too liberal a display of neck and 
arms; but then those were her principal charms, and her 
husband did not object to her revealing them. She wore 
some handsome jewelry which Mr. Anson had bought her 
a few days before in the Rue de Paix*. Olive felt quite 
dowdy in her high silk dress, and was rather annoyed that 
she had elected to appear in such severe simplicity. Mrs. 
Anson’s vivacity seemed to oppress her — she had never felt 
so stupid in her life before; it seemed an effort even to 
speak, and when she did she had a painful conviction of 
the utter absence of originality in her remarks. 

Henrietta was radiant, and conscious of appearing to ad- 
vantage, real enjoyment gave a brilliancy to her expression 
and conversation. 

Ah! liow long it was since she had dared to try her 
fascination on men— since she hsd. presumed to be lively 
and natural! She had given up hoping for the time when 
men should care for her society once more, and lo! here 
^ho was, well dressed, with a position undreamed of, sit- 


PROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


185 


ting side by side with a handsome man, and feeling that he 
was pleased to talk to her. It made the triumph ten times 
greater that Olive, with a hundred attractions she had never 
possessed, nor ever hoped to possess now, was sitting silent, 
eclipsed, forgotten. 

Dinner over, they drove to the theater. Sir George took 
his seat behind Mrs. Anson, to Olive’s mortification. She 
replied only in monosyllables to Mr. Anson^s remarks, and 
after several vain etforts to draw her into conversation, 
he gave up the attempt as hopeless, and turned his atten- 
tion to the stage. Sir George did not fail to notice his 
wife^s distrait her monosyllabic replies, and felt 

vexed with her for the first time in his life. He had been 
particularly desirous that she should make a favorable im- 
pression on his old friend, and it annoyed him to see her 
sitting listless and cross, evidently making no effort to be 
entertaining or entertained. 

Olive, looking up at him, read what was passing in his 
mind, and being consumed with foolish jealousy, felt 
almost pleased to think she was vexing him. Yet she had 
too much common sense not to have an angry, self -accus- 
ing consciousness that she was behaving like a silly, spoiled 
child, and placing herself by her pettish silence in the most 
unfavorable contrast to Mrs. Anson. 

Henrietta watched her, and was spitefully amused. 

“ Ah! ma helle,’^ she thought, “ you have your youth, 
your beaute de diable, and a thousand charms, which would 
be worth something, if you knew how to use them. And 
for poor little me, I have nothing but my tact, though 
perhaps that may secure for me more than all your natural 
gifts will do for you. Poor little fool! you are jealous 
already, and your husband is handsome. Men entendu, and 
not gifted with much strength of character or fidelity. 
Ah! what management, what humoring he would want 
from a woman when the first bloom of his passion has worn 
off! And you, you poor little hebe, are just going the right 
way to weary him outright. If I did not care so much for 
his handsome face myself, I would give you just a friendly 
little hint; but I never in my whole life saw a man whom 
I should care so much to see at my feet. ” 

And without the slightest compunction, Henrietta pro- 
ceeded to exercise her utmost fascinations on Sir George, 
and kept him so amused, that he forgot to look at Olive, 


186 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


or to notice how the time was slipping by. The poor child 
had glanced at him for the twentieth time before he raised 
his eyes and met hers. Something in her wistful expres- 
sion made him get up abruptly and bend down to her. 

‘‘ Are you tired, my pet?-"^ he whispered, fondly. 

“ So tired, darling,'’-’ she answered, her face brightening 
in a moment at his tone; “ do take me home.^^ 

‘‘Will you excuse us if we run away?^^ Sir George asked 
Mr. Anson. “ My wife has had a bad cold and cough — I 
am afraid to let her be out too late.^^ 

“ Certainly — certainly," " acquiesced Mr. Anson. “ Good- 
night, my boy. 1 shall look you up at yodr hotel in the 
morning. " " 

Sir George wrapped the rich cloak tenderly round Olivers 
slight figure, and betook himself to look for the carriage. 
Meantime Lady Fabian made her adieus cordially to Mr. 
Anson, and with icy frigidity to his wife. Mrs. Anson was 
all smiles and kindness, but there was an angry sparkle in 
her eyes as Olive left the box leaning on her husband" s 
arm. 

“ Little fool!"" she muttered. “ Bah! he is a fool too!"" 
And then she turned to her husband, and laughed and 
talked to him with the best grace in the world. 

Olive, leaning back in the carriage, with her head on her 
husband"s shoulder, his arm round her waist, had forgot- 
ten her petulance, and was bright and cheerful as usual. 

“You were not like yourself to-night, dearest,"" said 
Sir George, with some reproach in his tones. “You 
looked quite cross and sulky. It was very unkind — ^just 
when I wanted you to make a favorable impression on my 
friends."" 

“ Don"t say friends, George,"" cried Olive. “ I like Mr. 
Anson, but I can not endure that horrid, artful woman. 
Her theatrical ways, and perpetual little affected laugh, 
seem to weigh me down. I could not utter a word before 
her."" 

“ So I perceived,"" remarked Sir George, dryly. 

“Do not be angry with me, darling,"" pleaded Olive, 
nestling closer to her husband" s side. 

“ I am not angry, my child,"" he answered. “ Only I 
can not bear you to look to disadvantage. "" 

Olive felt the rebuke keenly, and resolved not to be fool- 
ish again. She made the amende so prettily, that Sir 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


187 


George forgot all about Mrs. Anson, with whom he had for 
the time been vastly taken, and vowed to himself that 
Olivers pretty, graceful, natural ways were worth a thou- 
sand times more than all the artificial fascinations of a 
woman of the world. 

But Olive, after her temporary fit of jealousy, did not 
feel secure until she had won Sir Georges’s promise that 
they should start for England as soon as everything could 
be arranged. He consented willingly enough, and an 
urgent note from Mrs. Hamilton, begging them to spend a 
few days at Biversdale before they went on to GabrieBs 
Wood, decided them on quitting Paris at once. 

Sir George, pleased with Olive’s delight at the thought 
of seeing her parents and sisters, again took her about to 
the ditferent shops to select pretty presents for them aU, 
and watched her natve pleasure with a paternal benignity 
that might . have befitted some world- worn sexagenarian in 
search of a new emotion. 

Mr. and Mrs. Anson came to wish them good-bye, and 
Henrietta used her utmost powers of pleasing on Lady 
Fabian, but without winning more than a frigid response. 

“ I trust we shall see a good deal of each other in Blank- 
shire,’ ’ she said, at parting, with a slight gleam of malice 
in her eyes. 

Olive merely bowed, and Sir George, feeling a little an- 
noyed at his wife’s manner, and fancying Mr. Anson 
might think her actuated by some foolish pride, hastened 
to say: 

“ I trust you will come to us very often, Mrs. Anson, 
for I am sure my wife will feel a great need of companion- 
ship now that she is taken away from her sisters.” 

Henrietta gave him such an eloquent look of gratitude, 
that he felt he had done the right thing, and was quite 
pleased with himself. At this moment the servant came 
to announce that the carriage waited in the court-yard, and 
there was no time to spare, so with a hurried farewell, 
hearty enough between the two men, the party separated. 
Mr. Anson went to make a call; his wife preferred to walk 
back to the hotel. But having seen the carriage drive out 
of the large gates, and turn to the left, she altered her in- 
tention, and passed down the Boulevards in a contrary 
direction. She walked quickly, crossing the Place de la 


188 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


Madeleine, and turning into the Eue du Faubourg St. 
Honore. 

‘‘ I wonder what fancy takes me to all these miserable 
places, where I was so intensely wretched?^ ^ she thought. 

Why do I want to look in at the poverty-stricken hole 
w^here I used to munch my sausage and salad, with the 
chance of worse fare even than that staring me in the 
face?^^ She stopped for a moment and peered in at a dark 
door-way with names written on the side. 

‘‘ I wonder what that old wretch has done with all my 
pretty trinkets and lace?'’^ continued her musings. 
‘ ‘ N’importe ! I have as good now, and no fear of losing 
them before my eyes. Oh! how comfortable, how solid is 
this respectable existence; but, mon Dieu how dull — how 
different from the gay life with Eene and his friends 

At this moment a woman dressed in clothes that had 
been handsome once, but were soiled and shabby now, 
emerged from the door-way. She looked ill and haggard, 
and there was disappointment written in every line of the 
face that one could see had been pretty at no distant period. 
A sudden feeling of compassion crossed Henrietta's hard 
little heart. 

“Another victim of that hag Mere Talons,^ ^ she mut- 
tered; and following for once a good impulse, she hastily 
took two napoleons from her purse, and running after the 
woman, placed them in her hand. Then she turned back 
as quickly and retraced her steps, while Mme. Talons'’ late 
visitor stared after her, overcome with surprise. A faint 
sound, that seemed to take the form of “ Dieu vous 
henisse from the poor white lips, all unused to 

blessing; and Henrietta, catching the echo, smiled to her- 
self, well pleased. Occupied with her own thoughts, she 
walked quickly on, not remarking that she had brushed 
against a man who stood looking in at a window where 
some tempting patisserie was displayed. He turned, 
looked at her, and then walked hastily after her. 

Morhleu ! la petite haronnel” he ejaculated. The 
speaker was a good-looking, dissipated young man, who 
bore the appearance of being in financial difficulties. He 
came up quickly behind Mrs. Anson, glanced sideways at 
her face, then pulling off his tall, greasy-looking hat, mur- 
mured, “ Madame la Baronne!'’'’ 

Henrietta gave an almost imperceptible start; but she 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


189 


- had schooled herself too well to the probability of such a 
rencontre to be embarrassed for more than a moment. 

' She took in his appearance at a glance, without stopping 
' or uttering a word. 

‘‘Ah! mon cher, you have come down in the world since 
; you ran away so meanly, and left the poor little companion 
' to get out of her difficulties.^'’ 

“ J'ai Vlionneur de parler a MadamelaBaronneV^ said 
■ the yomng man, humbly and interrogatively. 

‘‘i do not understand you," replied Henrietta in En- 
£glHk> with a stony British glare. 

C^est impossible he murmured, drawing back in 
'^oafused uncertainty. “ Henriette!^'’ he exclaimed aloud. 

I can not speak French. If you want me to under- 
stand, speak English, said Henrietta, knowing that De 
Vernet could not speak three words of any other language 
than his mother tongue. 

The man hesitated, uncertain, confused, and yet with a 
positive conviction of her identity. He continued to fol- 
low her at the distance of a few paces. 

When Mrs. Anson turned to retrace her steps he was at 
her elbow. She beckoned fiacre that was jogging along 
at a foot^s pace. “ Notre Dame," she said to the driver 
with an English accent. “ Vite!” 

De Vernet looked helplessly after her— he had but half 
a franc in his pocket, and could not follow her. So he 
abandoned the search, and going back to the cake-shop, 
expended his money in a tart, with red pears standing 
upright in it. 

When Henrietta had assured herself that she was not fol- 
lowed, she directed the man to drive to her hotel, and 
throwing off her sealskin cloak and hat, drew a low velvet 
fauteuil to the fire, and placed her small feet comfortably 
on a stool in front of the burning logs. Presently, when 
the agreeable warmth had diffused itself through her 
(Chilled limbs, she laughed a low laugh to herself, full of 
genuine amusement. 

“ My poor De Vernet!’^ she soliloquized; “ but you 
have come down terribly in the world. All your dandyism 
gone, and that wofully greasy hat and coat. And to 
think if you, Mr. Lion, had only helped the poor little 
mouse, how she might have been tempted to gnaw your 
nets to-day. Madame la Baronne! Henriette! I do not 


190 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


understand French/^ laughed Mrs. Anson, mimicking the 
various tones. “ Thank goodness I am not afraid of any- 
thing coming to Mr. Anson's ears. If Eene, and Achilie, 
or the whole boarding-house came to assure him what a 
disreputable little adventuress he had married, I could defy 
them all, and make him believe what I chose. The older 
the fool, the worse the fool. Better to be an old man's 
darling than a young man's slave. Ah! those delightfully 
true old axioms. And yet," cried Henrietta, breaking into 
sudden passion, ‘‘ I think I could let a man like (leorge 
Fabian trample my heart out, if he only loved me some- 
times, rather than be the spoiled darling of all the old men 
in creation! Here I have all my fondest dreams realized 
— position, wealth, security, and I who scolfed at love, and 
never thought of bringing that into the category of neces- 
saries for happiness, could eat my soul out with envy of 
that silly, pretty-faced chit, who wears her heart upon her 
sleeve, and who will no more be able to keep her husband's 
love than — than perhaps I shall be able to win it." And 
Mrs. Anson stamped savagely on the unresisting tabouret. 
“ But I will try," she exclaimed aloud, with a malicious 
gleam in her green-gray eyes. ‘‘ What do I care whether 
it is wicked ?" 

The door opened — a soft smile came over her face, and 
she jumped up, exclaiming: 

“Dear Mr. Anson, I am sure you are perished. See 
what a nice fire I have made for you! Sit down whilst I 
ring for lunch." And standing on tiptoe she took off his 
overcoat and, leading him to the arm-chair, pushed him 
gently into it and kissed his cheek. 

“ How pleasant it is to have a woman to come home 
to!" reflected the delighted husband, returning the salute. 


CHAPTEE XXIIL 

’ ALAN FAIRFAX. 

It is the little rift within the lute 

That by and by will make the music mute, 

And ever widening, slowly silence all. 

Yimen. 

Oh a bright cold day in March, Olive was driving her 
pretty bay ponies toward Lendal, the neighboring town. 
Sir George sat by her side, giving her a few finishing in- 


PEOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


191 


Structions in the management of her steeds, although he 
declared, fondly, she was almost perfect. Olive was de- 
lighted; her husband had been out hunting so much since 
his return that she had seen very little of him, and it was 
with a sense of acute relief that she saw him safe by her 
side, instead of feeling a prey to nervous torments about 
his safety. 

Do you particularly want to go into Lendal to-day, 
darling?” asked Sir George, presently. 

I did, rather; but if you have anything else to do, it 
does not matter.” 

I hear Fairfax came home last night, and I want to 
speak to him about some land he has to sell. Very likely 
he will go over to call to-day, and I should not like to miss 
him.” 

We^ll go back, then,^^ said Olive. there room to 
turn here, George?” 

Yes; take the first turning on the left.” 

Just as they drew up at the lodge gates, Mr. Fairfax 
came out on horseback. 

I was just going over to GabrieFs Wood,” he said, 
smiling and taking off his hat. 

Thisjs my wife,” said Sir George. ^ Olive, Mr. Fair- 
fax;” and then they bowed and smiled again. “ She 
ought to have waited until you called on her,” went on Sir 
George, but we do not think it necessary to treat bachelors 
with so much ceremony.” 

Now you have come so far,” exclaimed Mr. Fairfax, 
addressing Olive, ‘^^you must come a little further and 
see the Abbey. I have not much to show you, but your 
presence will brighten up the old place. It is many a long 
day since it has had a visit from a lady. 

I should like so much to see it,” answered Olive, with 
a pretty, appealing look at her husband, while Mr. Fairfax 
watched her and thought what graceful young creature she 
was, and what a fortunate choice his friend had made. He 
was not given to taking strong fancies, but he felt that it 
would be a long time before he tired of looking at the 
bright, frank face, with its fond, sincere eyes. 

‘^That mouth and eyes would never lie or deceive a 
man,'^ was his mental register in the moment that he 
waited for Sir George^s acquiescence. 

I am so glad we met you,” said Olive, turning her 


m 


PROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


bright eyes on Mr. Fairfax and speaking with the newly 
acquired confidence of matronhood. I wanted so much 
to see you — ‘George is always speaking of you.-’"’ 

That is a very trying test for me/'’ smiled Mr. Fair- 
fax. Assuming George has spoken favorably of me, you 
may have been inclined to think too well of me, and are 
liable to suffer proportionate disappointment.” . 

Oh, no,” cried Olive quickly. I shall like you very 
much. ” 

Ah, Alan!” laughed Sir George — you see I shall have' 
to take her to London for a season, to make a woman of 
the world of her.” 

“ I hate women of the world,” exclaimed Mr. Fairfax 
quickly, while Olive looked uneasily at her husband, as if 
she feared to have -said something wrong. But he returned 
her glance with such a fond smile, that she was reassured,, 
and said brightly: 

I am afraid I shall have a great deal to learn before 
George will be able to take me out with comfort and credit 
to himself. ” 

By this time they had reached the Abbey^, and Mr. Fair- 
fax dismounted, and helping Olive out of the carriage, led 
the way into the drawing-room. 

' Dear me!” he said with some concern, the fire has 
gone out. This is one of the dangers of taking bachelors 
unawares. Lady Fabian, would you mind coming into my 
sanctum? I left a blazing pile there ten minutes ago. But 
you must promise to shut your eyes at the confusion and 
disorder that reign riot there.” 

^^Come along, old fellow,” cried Sir George, '^anddonT 
make so many apologies. I promise you Olive will not be 
overcritical, and she hates to. be made a fuss with.” 

And, all laughing, they entered through the massive 
oaken door-way, into a handsome, luxuriously furnished 
room, just sufficiently in disorder to make it look thoi’oughly 
comfortable and habitable. Mr. Fairfax pushed a low 
chair to the great carved chimney-piece which reached the; 
ceiling. 

Is this too near the fire, and may I give you a foot- 
stool?” he asked Olive, solicitously. 

Why, Alan, you are thoughtful enough to have been 
married ten years,” laughed Sir George. ^^By the way, 
talking of marriage, what do you think of Anson^s match?” 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 193 

Think replied Mr. Fairfax, quickly. think he 
was the dupe of an artful woman. 

That^s rather a strong opinion for you/^ remarked Sir 
George, looking up. 

I took a great dislike to Mrs. Anson the first time I 
saw her.” 

I am glad you think as I do,” cried Olive, the color 
mounting to her cheek. George would have it I was 
only jealous, hut I think I dislike her, because she gives 
me the idea of being so insincere. ” 

Jealous?” said Mr. Fairfax, looking curiously at Lady 
Fabian, and replying to the first part of the speech. You 
jealous of Mrs. Anson?” 

Come!” exclaimed the baronet, laughing — ‘^it will be 
my turn to be. jealous if you two continue to evince such a 
decided disposition to be complimentary to each other 

1 have not seen Lady vibart, yet,” remarked Mr. 
Fairfax. What does she say to her father^s marriage?” 

Oh, behaves likes a sensible woman. Fiotices her 
late companion — not very cordially, perhaps, but sufii- 
ciently to avoid any breach with her father, and never 
comments upon his choice in any way. I should think 
Grevil would be the most annoyed. ” 

No — he takes it very well — I saw him last week. He 
only remarked that the poor old governor would have been 
very dull all by himself; she was an amusing little person, 
and he thought it was the best thing his father could have 
done, under the circumstances.” 

Bravo, Grevil!” cried Sir George. ^^More sensible 
than I gave him credit for. But, Alan ! you will not know 
the bride again — she is really quite pretty, and dresses 
wonderfully. ” 

^^Ali!”- rejoined Mr. Fairfax, quietly. ‘‘1 thought all 
that dowdiness *and humility were only assumed for occa- 
sion. ” 

Come, my dear fellow, if you are so bitter against her, 

I predict you will fall one of the earliest victims ^ her fas- 
cinations. She^s vastly amusing to talk to, I assure you. 
But it is getting late, and Olive must not be out much 
longer. Come home and dine with us. I have so much 
to say to you. ” 

Do!” urged Olive; and Mr. Fairfax yielded, thinking 
7 


194 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


within himself that a man must be very obdurate to refuse 
anything to those eloquent brown eyes. 

As time went on his visits to GabrieFs Wood became 
very frequent — even more frequent than in the baronet^s 
bachelor days. 

“ I think Fairfax has taken a wonderful fancy to you/^ 
Sir George said in confidence to his wife. You ought to 
feel flattered — ^for it is not many women who have his good 
opinion. 

I should not have thought he disliked Women/^ an- 
swered Olive. His planner is always so courteous, and I 
am sure he is more thoughtful — even than you. 

He never speaks against women, darling, except against 
Mrs. Anson, and that to please you, I believe. Ho one could 
call him a cynic or a misanthropist, because he does not 
talk bitterly; but I know he is very hard on women in his 
heart. I believe he was engaged once when q^uite a young 
man, and the girl behaved badly to him; but 1 never heard 
the :^hts of. the story. 

How could any one behave badly to such a man as 
that?” said Olive, thoughtfully. ^^One would think any 
woman would be only too proud to be cared for by him. ” 

My pet, sad experience teaches us that it is not always 
the good fellows who are loved the best — many a scamp 
gets the devotion of a good woman's life, and breaks her 
heart into the bargain. ” 

And sometimes the nice men throw themselves away on 
silly little country girls, who are not half good enough for 
them,” whispered Olive, putting her arms around her hand- 
some husband's neck. 

I would not change you for a duchess, my darling,” he 
answered, fondly. 

Lady Vibart came very often to see Olive. She had grown 
quite fond of the child, as she called her; and in return 
Olive felt a profound admiration for the stately beauty. 
She was delighted with her home, but Sir George insisted 
on various alterations being made according to her pleasure 
and taste. It was fixed that they should go to London for 
six weeks in the season, where Mary and Alice Hamilton 
were to stay with them in turn. Mrs. and Mrs. Hamilton 
had promised to come for a fortnight in May, and Olive 
was looking eagerly forward to their visit. Nurse Greet 
had arrived some time ago, and was duly installed as house- 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 195 

keeper. But when May came Mr. Hamilton had some 
urgent business which he could not leave, and at the end 
of fhe month they went up to town, as they had previously 
arranged. Olive was anticipating with some awe her first 
meeting with Sir Geo^e^’s sister, by whom she was to be 
presented at Court. She had a secret inkling that Mrs. 
Stanhope had not approved the marriage, and was anxious 
te make a favorable impression upon her. She was full of 
childish delight at the idea of going into society, and made 
all sorts of matrimonial projects for her sisters, much to 
her husband^s amusement. 

We shall be able to take them out a good deal, sha^n^t 
we, George 

^^Not to dinner parties, dear.^^ 

Oh ! they will not care for that — we all hate dinner 
parties : but to balls, and fetes, and flower-shows, and the 
opera.” 

Oh, yes, as much of that as they like.” 

And Mary may come to us as soon as we go up to 
London?” 

Certainly, if you wish it.” 

And you won^t go much to your club, will you?” 

^^Oh! I make no promises about that. You must play 
the fashionable wife when we are in town, and never think 
of troubling your head about my movements.” 

Sir George laughed, but Olive pouted. 

I do not want to be a fashionable wife,” she said, '^if 
you are to go away and leave me.” 

^^You will horrify Mildred if you look and talk like 
that.” 

Of course, she can afford to be fashionable. She mar- 
ried an old man for his money, and does not care for too 
much of his society,” said Olive, piqued. 

You have no right to say that. You know nothing 
about it!” exclaimed' Sir George, sharply; and he went out 
of the room, shutting the door behind him. 

Olive flew after him — she did not notice that some one 
else was standing in the hall — and caught his arm, crying: 

^^Don^t be angry, darling — I am so sorry — I did not 
mean to offend you. ” 

Hush I — never mind — don^t you see Fairfax?” ex- 
claimed Sir George who was not of so forgiving a disposi- 
tion as his wife. 


196 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


Alan Fairfax felt secretly indignant as he saw the burst 
of genuine kindness repulsed, but he came forward to greet 
them as if he had seen nothing. 

Olive was a poor dissembler; there were great tears in 
her eyes, and her voice trembled as she returned his salu- 
tation. 

^^Poor little soul he thought, kindly, and he pressed 
her hand so tenderly, that she comprehended in a moment 
how he had noticed her vexation, and was angry with him, 
angry with her husband, angry with herself. 

When Sir George spoke to her presently, as if nothing 
had happened, she answered him coldly, and it was very 
evident that she felt petulant. 

Olive, he said, after Mr. Fairfax was gone, you 
must learn to be a little less childish. It shows great want 
of breeding to be cross and sulky before people. Be so 
as much as you please when no one else is by, but remem- 
ber that some consideration is due to the presence of 
others." 

^^Oh, George!" she cried, ^^how cruel you are I" and burst 
into a flood of tears. 

This first little quarrel was soon made up, but first quar- 
rels are very dangerous things, inasmuch as they lead to 
more serious disagreements. 

Lady Vibart was, on the whole, contented with the way 
in which she had disposed of her fate; and her husband, 
who loved her with all his heart, fulfilled what he consid- 
ered his part of the contract to the full. He heaped every 
luxury around his beautiful wife, anticipated her every 
wish, and never even by a look attempted to control her 
actions. He trusted her blindly, irnplicitly. If at times a 
bitter thought came across his kind heart that he could not 
command the passionate affection she might have given 
to a yoimger man, he checked it at once, and only remem- 
bered to feel grateful to her for her unvarying kind man- 
ner and attention to his wishes. 

For her part, EthePs nature was far too generous not to 
be influenced by all the tender care and kindness of a man 
like Lord Vibart. She esteemed him thoroughly, and per- 
haps loved him in a way. Her pride and common sense 
would not allow a single regret. 

No one can be perfectly satisfied in this world," she 
said to herself. I believe I am much happier in my pres- 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


197 


ent position than I should have been had I married Vivian 
Huntingford. As his wife, I might have had some intense 
happiness (here Lady Vibart gave a stifled sigh), but it 
would have been more than counterbalanced by the morti- 
fication of genteel poverty. Now I have every advantage 
of position and wealth, every luxury, perfect ease, not a 
care to trouble me, and I must pay the penalty of craving 
to love deeply, without the hope of having it fulfilled. 
And is it really happiness to feel an intense passion?” mused 
the proud beauty, or is love only a succession of torture 
and rapture, doubts, fears, hopes, mixed up in a madden- 
ing uncertainty? Is it well to be so completely a man^s 
slave that a look or a smile from him can enthrone one 
high up in Olympus, whilst a temporary semblance of in- 
difference, or a glance given to another woman, has power 
to cast one into the despair of Hades? I have heard that a 
woman only retains her sovereignty over a man^s heart as 
long as she is really indifferent to him — once a slave, her 
empire is gone. That is the reason why so many women 
who are not beautiful are passionately loved by men, proba- 
bly because human nature sets such a high value upon what 
it is difficult or impossible to attain. 

I believe I must be bad and cold-hearted,” Lady Vibart 
soliloquized, since I never yet knew what it was to love 
any one thoroughly and unselfishly. Better, perhaps, for ' 
my own peace of mind. There is that, poor child Olive. 
How she adores her husband! I believe she would lay 
down her life for him. How she brightens up when he 
comes into the room! — how she watches him with her soft 
eyes, looking so proud and fond of him ! Dear little thing 
— if one only dare put some worldly wisdom into her inno- 
cent head — if one could but show her he is no hero, that 
ordinary mortals are not to be worshiped too much — but 
she would not believe; she would only hate the officious 
friend who tried to open her eyes. Ah! fickle George!— r 
she is too good for you, only I pray you may never make 
that poor little heart ache too bitterly. 

It is much better not to be in love,” concluded Lady 
Vibart — speaking all the more emphatically because she 
knew the reasoning was fallacious. The greatest amuse- 
ment, and the one fraught with the least danger to one^s 
self is the truly Parisian mode of playing at sensations.” 
And she resumed the French novel which lay on her lap. 


198 


PKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

NOT A WOMAN OF THE WORLD. 

Yea, if I could, would I have you see 
My very love of you filling me? 

And know my soul to the quick as I know 
The likeness and look of your eyes and hair. 

Triumph of Time. 

Mr. Fairfax was smoking by the open window of his 
luxurious sanctum. Midnight had just struck from the 
sonorous-sounding clock over the old gateway, and a flood 
of silver moonlight poured into the room, paling and yel- 
lowing the soft light of the silver lamps. He was thinking, 
deeply, intently; unmindful of all but his own reflections, 
and still as one in a trance, but for an occasional quick- 
drawn breath, a sharper curl of the smoke-wreaths from 
his lips. Half an hour ago he had returned from Gabriel’s 
Wood, and he was thinking over a promise he had made, 
and trying hard to analyze the feeling that had prompted 
him to make. it. 

Was he in love with his neighbor’s wife? He answered 
the thought by a quick denial. Then how came it that 
her least wish was law to him; that, rather than deny her 
simple request, he was willing to alter his plans, to do a 
thing he was weary of, that he had forsworn iii his mmd? 

Sir George Fabian had mentioned at dinner the date of 
their departure, and had urged him to spend a few weeks 
of the season in London. And Olive had raised her eyes 
with pretty earnestness and said, Mr. Fairfax, do change 
your mind and come — it will make it seem more like home 
to have one’s friends amongst us. Promise me, and then 
I know you will not break your word.” And he had prom- 
ised then, and again as Lady Fabian wished him good- 
night. Now he was trying to discover the impulse on which 
he had acted — he, stern Alan Fairfax, on whom for ten 
years past the wiles and fascinations of women had made 
no impression, because he mistrusted and disbelieved them. 
He was not one of those men who love to sneer at woman’s 
frailty, to profess an open disbelief in virtue and purity, 
and to make contemptuous allowances for the feline nature 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


199 


that makes deceit natural to the soft creatures. Many a 
man does that, thinking himself safe in his profound knowl- 
edge of woman^s human nature, and going away, proud in 
his fancied strength, becomes the easy prey of the first de- 
signing member of the sex he has maligned. 

Mr. Fairfax took no pleasure in vituperating all woman- 
kind because one had been bitterly false to him — he never 
even laughed at or Joined in a choice club scandal which, 
say what they will, men relish to the full as much as any 
old village gossips do their dish of scandal at tea-time. Be- 
sides, it is quite a different thing to take away characters, 
and laugh down reputations in a handsome, open-handed 
sort of way, from discussing the shabbiness of a friend^s 
wardrobe, or the reason why she parted with her cook. It 
is Just possible for women to meet and gossip without mak- 
ing mention of the sterner sex at all (and, by the way, if 
they do speak of them it is generally with favor), but where 
in the known world do a body of idle men meet together 
without the introduction of that one topic, which is as salt 
to the egg of masculine conversation? 

Mr. Fairfax was always courteous in his manner to 
women — but always impassible. N ot one could boast of hav- 
ing received any particular attention from him — only some- 
times a very young girl would fall desperately in love with his 
kind, grave manner, and then he would withdraw himself 
very gently from her society, before she had time to be 
piqued or hurt by his indifference. 

His argument was rather that women were by nature so 
changeful and inconstant that deception was inevitable — 
they tired of one man and liked another, and their sense of 
honor was not strong enough to keep them steadfastly fair 
to either. They had no sound comprehension of the wrong 
of loving one man and marr3nng another. Of course there 
were many noble-hearted, pure-minded, faithful women, 
but how innumerable were those others who only simulated 
these virtues, and by what test were men to distinguish be- 
tween the real and the artificial? A Jeweler can tell a 
diamond from paste, but ordinary mortals would find it 
hard to choose between the two stones if they were in the 
same setting. If,^’ thought Mr. Fairfax, the girl whom 
I was content to take as the type of everything pure in 
womanhood could deceive me so grossly, I have no faith or 
trust in my own Judgment again. 


200 


PEOM OLYMPITS TO HADES. 


But of late tliese stern tliouglits had been gradually 
giving way, and to-night the man of the world, who believed 
all faith lost, had once again very tender thoughts of a 
woman. 

My God!^^ he exclaimed passionately at last, what it 
must be to be loved hke Fabian! — ^loved with all the fresh, 
unsullied heart of a pure young girl, to be followed every- 
where with loving glances and tender, anxious thoughts, to 
feel one has the whole devotion of a true soul and the wor- 
ship of eyes that never looked a glance of coquetry upon 
another man! I would ask no better heaven than that, 
and yet I can see George is a little wearied— a little bored 
by it already. If I had known her instead of him — if she 
had loved me! — I could follow her about like a dog, and 
give up every* wish, just to bring a pleasant smile into her 
eyes. And she will never know I care for her — ^never have 
a thought of love for me, thank God!” said Alan, closing 
liis lips tight for fear he should be guilty of a wish that be- 
lied his words. What a fool I was to promise her I would 
go to London! I am sick to death of gay seasons, and had 
made all my plans for staying here. After all, what does 
she care whether I go or stay, except for the kindness of 
heart that prompts her to say pleasant, friendly things? I 
should find the time weary enough while she was gone, but 
when would she ever miss me, if her husband were by her 
side? Perhaps he will leave her more in London, and then 
she mil be miserable, and the tears will come into her 
beautiful eyes, like that day at GabrieFs Wood. Perhaps 
if I were there, I might keep him more with her. Ah ! what 
I would do to keep her from suffering!” 

We all know that love is a species of madness, unsought, 
often fied from by its victims. The wisest, the strongest, 
the most honorable man can not help falling in love, but he 
can help encouraging it; he can help its leading him into 
sin or injustice. And Alan Fairfax was one of those men 
honest-hearted and firm in purpose, who could love and 
suffer in his own heart without yielding, an inch to the temp- 
tation of seeking a response to his passion. He was noble 
and unselfish enough to love in action, by giving up him- 
self, by shielding, as far as he could, the woman he loved 
from suffering, without any thought or hope of return. 

How little credit men get for a love like that! — ^how ten- 
fold more women worship the selfish ones who can not make 


201 


FEOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 

the sacrifice of their passions — who, while simply loving 
themselves, make their victims put implicit faith in their 
blind devotion. After all who knows which are most to 
blame, the women or the men? If women’s vanity is so 
insatiable — ^if they will play with the edged tools of soft 
glances and fervent hand-pressures — they should, at all 
events, be so discreet as to handle them without cutting 
themselves. 

Mr. Fairbanks was perfectly correct in his surmises 
that Lady Fabian would not be so happy in London as she 
had anticipated. After three weeks of gayety and pleasure, 
Olive began to long very much after Gabriel’s Wood. She 
liked the balls, the /efes, the drives in the Park, the morn- 
ings in the Row — that is, she would have enjoyed them im- 
mensely if she could have Sir George by her side. But he 
was nearly always absent, or if with her, he invariably 
talked to some one else. He hated a carriage, unless he 
drove himself, and he had not brought his phaeton to 
London.- In the morning he always rode, and Olive some- 
times felt a pang of jealousy as she saw him bending gayly 
to talk with handsome, fashionable women. Sometimes 
she would say bitterly to herself, He is tired of me,” and 
then tears she could hardly repress would rise to her eyes. 
Mr. Fairfax saw it all — it was he who always walked with 
her, who fetched her chairs when she was tired, who found 
her carriage, and stood talking to her in the afternoon, 
when her barouche was drawn up by the rails, and brought 
all the best men to be introduced to her. Often, too, he 
would contrive some artifice to bring her husband to her 
side, and was rewarded by seeing the light come into her 
eyes, and the smile deepen around her mouth. At halls 
or fUes he was careful Olive should never feel neglected, 
and all he did was so delicately forethought of and arrang- 
ed, that she was hardly conscious how much she owed him. 
She thought him very kind, very nice; she was always glad 
to have him by her side, but the idea that he cared for, or 
was kind to her for any other motive than friendship to her 
husband, never crossed her brain. 

Had any other man paid her so much attention, been so 
constantly at her side, society would probably have com- 
mented upon it; but no one ever thought of passing any 
remark upon Alan Fairfax, who, though always courteous 
and kind, was so proverbially impassible to women. 


202 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


In accordance with Sir George’s wishes, Olive was very 
frequently with Mrs. Stanhope. There was no love or 
sympathy between the two women — Mrs. Stanhope always 
cold, never showing what she felt, and Olive always im- 
pulsive — her face the open index to her mind. She was 
painfully conscious that her sister-in-law despised her, and 
thought her silly, childish, and deficient in tact and man- 
ner. Sometimes when she was a little petulant with her 
husband, and disappointed because he excused himself from 
accompanying her in a walk or drive, she would be bitterly 
galled to read the cold contempt and displeasure in his sis- 
ter’s eyes. It was ten times more mortifying to her that 
Mrs. Stanhope never made the slightest comment upon her 
actions than if she had reproved or reproached her; but 
under those disdainful eyes she never felt at rest. Her 
happiest time was when with Lady Vibart, who was always 
gracious and kind to her. 

Mrs. Anson had persuaded her husband to bring her to 
London for a fortnight, and was thoroughly enjoying her 
glimpse of the world. She was asked out a good deal, in 
the first place for Mr. Anson’s sake, and then because she 
was extremely agreeable, and knew perfectly well how to 
make herself liked. The fortnight had lengthened into 
three weeks, and Mr. Anson had just consented to remain 
another week; so Henrietta was perfectly radiant. Sir 
George was often at her side, particularly at balls, for she 
was a wonderfully good dancer, and Mr. Anson was in- 
dulgent enough to let her enjoy heiwisit to London thor- 
oughly and without restraint. She was so good to him, so 
solicitous about his health, so devotedly fond of him, that 
he had no heart to begrudge her these small enjoyments. 

Olive never suffered so bitterly as when she watched Hen- 
rietta talking to and looking up in Sir George’s face. She 
had a terrible intuitive kind of knowledge that this woman 
was trying to win away her husband’s love, and the bare 
thought made her suffer terribly. She grew quite unlike 
herself — silent, preoccupied, petulant, very different. Sir 
George thought angrily, from the bright young girl he had 
married eight months ago. 

She was ungrateful, he argued — what could she possibly 
want more? He gave her every luxury; every enjoyment 
that wealth could purchase; was always kind, always con- 
siderate, never controlling her in any way; she might order 


FEOM OLYMPUS TO HADES, 


203 


as many dresses and spend as mucli money as she liked, 
and what more could the most unreasonable woman in the 
world want? It neyer occurred to him that a little more of 
his society and attention would have been amply sufficient 
to bring back all the old smiles and bright good humor. 
The more vexed he saw her, the more persistently he re- 
mained away from her. 1 will, not go home, to be met 
by sullen looks he declared to himself. 

Henrietta's keen eyes noted everything— she never lost an 
opportunity of fanning the flames. Sometimes she would 
softly advocate clubs — their advantages, their indispensa- 
bility, their comforts; at others she would praise the sense, 
the breeding of fashionable women, in seeking and enjoy- 
ing their own amusements, without troubling or being de- 
pendent upon their lords. 

When women owe everything to their husbands, she 
would say to him, it is hard indeed that they should wish 
to restrict menu’s enjoyments and pleasures. The great 
charm wives possess is the tact which makes them greet 
their husbands with pleasant smiles, and keeps them amused 
as long as they are in their company. 

Henrietta uttered all these little sayings innocently 
enough, but with a delightful consciousness that he was 
applying all she 'said to Olive. 

But one day an incident happened to Mrs. Anson that 
threatened to shake her lightly built security to its very 
foundation. It was one of those strange accidents fate de- 
lights in, which proves that truth is stranger than fiction.'’^ 
Henrietta, walking down the Eow with Mr. Anson, saw at 
a little distance Mrs. Stanhope and Olive sitting under the 
trees conversing with a knot of gentlemen. She would 
have passed them, for she disliked and feared Mrs. Stan- 
hope; but Sir George, seeing her, came forward. 

'^Here is a charming opportunity for you to practice 
your French, he whispered, with a smile. Shall I in- 
troduce you to a new acquaintance?^^ 

I shall be charmed,^^ she answered, casting a glance at 
the stranger whose back was turned to her. 

Vicomte!^^ said Sir George, laying a hand lightly on his 
arm, and the gentleman turned at once. An electric shock 
seemed to pass through Henrietta's frame — for a moment 
her head swam, and she turned deadly sick. Then, as the 
baronet pronoimced the words Monsieur de Gamier, I 


^04 


PEOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


want to introduce you to a lady who speaks your language 
perfectly/"’ she recovered sufficiently to bend her head; but, 
finished actress as she was, she could not control the burn- 
ing blush that overspread her face. For an instant the 
Frenchman was equally petrified, then he took off his hat, 
and murmured a few courteous words in broken English. 

Sir George had turned to speak to Mr. Anson, and no 
one observed the confusion of the new acquaintances ex- 
cepting Mr. Fairfax. He shot one keen glance at them, 
and then turned away to speak to Lady Fabian. Mrs. An- 
son asked the vicomte a variety of questions. Had he 
been long in London? — did he intend to make any stay? — 
was it his first visit? — what did he think of the English 
ladies? And then, when she perceived that one of the rest 
of the party were observing them, she whispered, Eene, 
vous ne me trahirez and he answered in the same 

tone: 

ay ez pas peur, ma helle.” 

Then- he inquired pohtely if madame would be at the ball 
which Lady Yibart was to hold that evening, and Henrietta 
replied .in the affirmative. 

Might he venture to engage her for a waltz ?^^ 

She would be delighted."’^ 

The third. 

With pleasure, and then Mr. Anson moved on, and 
with a bow to De Garnier, she joined him. All day long 
she was in a fever of anxiety. De Garnier was not a man 
to be trusted— she must see him, explain ever3rfching to him, 
and obtain a firmer promise of his secrecy, or she was un- 
done. What! should she lose this fair fabric of reputation 
she had earned, after long and very wearisome years of 
painful toil and weariness of the flesh? 

After dinner Mr. Anson complained of a slight headache. 
I think you must write a note to Ethel, my dear, and 
ask her to excuse us to-night. I am tired, and she will 
quite understand the importance of my attending to my 
health. 

Henrietta was in an agony, but she dared not show how 
anxious she was to go to the ball. 

Certainly, dear, I will write at once," she acquiesced, 
trying to smile. It would be a thousand pities to run the 
risk of a bad headache. Lady Vibart will be terribly dis- 
appointed, but then she knows how careful you are. She 


PROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


m 

w^s quite triumphant this morning to think that she had 
persuaded you to be present. ^ If it is only for an hour/ 
she said, ^ and really papa ought to be present at my first 
ball. ^ 

All this was a polite fiction; hut then we know our little 
adventuress excelled in original composition. 

^^Oh, if Ethel said that,” uttered Mr. Anson, languidly, 

of course I would rather make a sacrifice than disappoint 
her.” 

Pray do not think of it,” entreated Henrietta. I am 
sure your, health is Lady Vihart^s first consideration — and 
even if people remarked on your absence, she knows so well 
how to explain everything.” 

Mr. Anson began to fidget a little. 

Perhaps I had better go,” he said. 

But suppose it should make your headache worse?” 

Oh, I must chance it — I shall try and take a nap be- 
fore we go. We need not stay more than an hour.” 

Certainly not — even half an hour — just to let people 
see that — well, at all events, I will dress and order the car- 
riage; it is easy enough to send it away if you alter your 
mind. ” 

And Henrietta, secretly triumphant, rose to ring the 
hell. 

Mr. Anson went to sleep for an hour, rose quite refreshed 
and cheerful, rang for his valet, and dressed complacently, 
to do honor to his daughter's first ball. 

McCfoir^ he exclaimed, as Henrietta came tripping 
down the stairs. '^What a toilet! — and how well you 
look!” 

I am glad you think so,” she responded, with a ra- 
diant smile. I do my best not to disgrace my handsome, 
aristocratic husband,” and she pressed his arm fondly. 

Who would have recognized in this brilliant, fascinating 
little creature, whom all the men liked and courted, the 
Slaters^ despised governess, or Mrs. Fellows^ dowdy com- 
panion! But then who would recognize in a little water 
l3dng at the bottom of a tea-cup, the resplendent diamond 
drop flashing back the sun^s rays as it falls sparkling from 
the crystal fountain? We are all the playthings of cir- 
cumstance. 


m 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


CHAPTEE XXV. 

THE VICOMTE DE GARNIER. 

Is this enough to say 
That my desire, like all strongest hopes, 

By its own energy fulfilled itself, 

Merged in completion? 

Tennyson. 

Lady Vibart was receiving her guests with the grace 
and dignity of an empress. Many illustrious personages 
were present; but the hostess accorded an equal amomit of 
courtesy to all, while her husband watched her with proud 
gladness in his eyes. 

Around her stood a group of the handsomest, best-bred 
men in London, all anxious for a smile or a word, for Lady 
Vibart was even more admired and sought after than Miss 
Anson had been. 

At the moment when her father and Henrietta entered, 
she was speaking a few graceful words of welcome to the 
Vicomte de Gamier. As her gaze fell on Mrs. Anson, it 
occurred to her that she was the very person to entertain 
the young Frenchman; and, acting on the idea, she pre- 
sented them to each other. 

I had the honor of an introduction to madame already 
this morning,’’^ said De Gamier, bowing low. I am too 
fortunate in resuming the acquaintance. Will madame 
accord me the pleasure of dancing with her?” 

For answer Henrietta slid her hand from her husband^s 
arm, and placed it in that of De Gamier. They passed on 
to the ball-room, and Mr. Anson took his place by Lady 
Vibart. ^ 

Henrietta was so full of feverish excitement, that for the 
first few minutes she could find nothing to say, and De 
Gamier was equally embarrassed. He had a latent sense 
of having injured the woman whose light touch was upon 
his arm, and he was secretly wondering what course she 
would adopt toward him. They were on the threshold of 
the magnificent ball-room, the orchestra commenced the 
first few bars of the new waltz, and Henrietta, forgetting 
everything for the moment in her passionate love of danc- 
ing, whispered: 


FEOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


207 


Let us dance. 

In a moment Garnier^s arm was round her waists and 
they were gliding away through the maze of dancers, ob- 
livious of all but the enjoyment of the moment. Nothing 
in the world could have happened more thoroughly to dis- 
sipate any rancor or ill will that might have lurked in 
Henrietta's heart than this waltz — ^it took her back to the 
time when she and Eene had danced together in the gor- 
geous Paris saloons, and vowed that their steps STiited each 
other to the very heart of perfection. 

I have not had such a waltz like this in all the years 
since we parted, whispered He Gamier in her ear, as they 
paused to take breath. 

Since you left me, you would say?” replied Henrietta, 
with perfect good-humor. ^‘1 can afford to forgive you. 
But for your cruelty I should not be here now.” 

It was an extraordinary phenomenon in Henrietta's nat- 
ure that she bore no spite or ill-will to the person who had 
used her the worst. She was not bitter toward him — she 
did not long to be revenged on him as she did on Miss 
Smithson of the Paris boarding-house, or Mrs. Fellows’ 
maid — she did not hate him as she hated Lady Fabian. 
No! as long as he did no further, harm, she could forgive 
him, and even feel something like the revival of her old 
friendship for him. 

The waltz was over. Mrs. Anson put her hand through 
the vicomte’s arm. 

Tiens !” she whispered. des confidences a te 

faire.” 

They passed through the door-way, along the broad cor- 
ridor, and into a small, dimly lighted apartment, away 
from the other rooms. 

Come in here,” she said; we shall not be disturbed,” 
and releasing her arm from his, she sunk into the crimson 
cushions of the luxurious causeiise. By the soft light she 
really looked bewitching, with her dazzling complexion and 
hair aurified with gold dust. Her mipionne figure was set 
off to the best advantage, and the pink roses, with their 
dark leaves, became her admirably. 

He Gamier, beholding her various charms, became 
slightly sentimental; he fixed his dark eyes admiringly upon 
her, and laying his hand on her arm, murmured, Qtte tu 
parais MUr 


208 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


she said, impatiently, withdrawiiig her hand. 

Nous avons change tout cela. Kemember, Monsieur 
de Vicomte, I am a British matron now*, and it is not mode 
here to make love to one^s neighbor's wife, like you Paris- 
ians/^ 

Pardon, said De Gamier, removing his hand, and 
looking slightly puzzled. Tell me, madame, what you 
have done m these last years, and how I come to have the 
honor of meeting you in this distinguished society? Do you 
owe it all to the good aunt?" 

Partly," answered Mrs. Anson, with a gay laugh at 
the reminiscence. When you left me, I became very ill 
— very ill, indeed — I had a fever." 

Je suis desole” murmured the vicomte. If I had 
only known!" 

It would have been a still better reason for your keep- 
ing away," said Mrs. Anson, with a mocking laugh. 

Cruelle !” began De Gamier; but she interrupted him. 

Qidest-ce que Qa me fait f It is folly to regret the 
past; and it matters to me as little now that I W’as hungry 
then, and had to sell my.poor little wardrobe to buy meager 
fare, as it would if I had dined every night at the Maison 
Doree or the Cafe Anglais, and exhiMted the most dazzling 
toilets daily in the Bois. " 

She spoke Lightly enough, and without bitterness, but 
her words produced the exact effects she had intended. 
De Gamier, who was generous enough in the main, felt 
stung to think of the heartless way in which he had left 
the poor little foreigner — felt stung to think how base and 
mean this woman must consider him in her heart. 

Ah, madame," he commenced again; if I had only 
dreamed — " 

A has les regrets !” laughed Henrietta. “ Listen, I am 
going to tell you my story, I was ill, I became ugly, my 
hair fell off, my complexion yellowed. Then I said to my- 
self — what to do? — I am frightful. I shall starve in this 

gay city, where there is so much happiness for the beauti- 
ful, and no one cares for the poor or the plain. And then 
with a sorrowful heart, I cried, ^ Viva la respectahilite 
Heaven bless my virtuous aspirations," continued Mrs. An- 
son, mockingly — I became dame de corny agnie to a lady, 
and she took me to a haunt of harpies, called by courtesy 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 209 

a Pension des Dames. Ah, je m^en souviens encore des 
suppUces de cet enfer.” 

Panvrette /” murmured the vicomte. 

Well, after a time I left her,” proceeded Henrietta, pre- 
ferring to suppress the story of her meeting with Oscar 
Menard and Achille de Vernet. I became institutrice 
to some charming girls, then I taught some veritable imps 
of Satan, finally accepted the post of companion to our 
magnificent hostess of to-night, and have now the honor to 
he her telle mere. My husband is a well-bred, complaisant 
old fool, whom I wind round the tips of my fingers. I have 
a charming country-house, where I shall be delighted to 
welcome Monsieur le Vicomte de Gamier. ” 

Madame has the goodness of an angel,” vowed the 
Frenchman. In his turn, if he could serve her — if, even at 
the greatest sacrifice of himself, he could minister to the 
fulfillment of her slightest wish, he put himself at her feet 
as the most devoted of her slaves. 

I only ask you to promise me, on your word of honor, 
never to mention that we have met before.” 

On the honor of a De Gamier,^^ said the vicomte, lay- 
ing his hand on his heart. 

Henrietta extended her hand with a bewitching smile, 
and the gallant Frenchman raised it to his lips. 

I would trust you with my life — more, with my reputa- 
tion,” said our little adventuress, and her conquest w^as 
complete. '‘'Now tell me all about yourself — how you 
come to be in England — why you are not married to Made- 
moiselle de Saint Mery?” 

" Alas!” replied De Gamier, "that sainted woman is 
dead in giving birth to a son two years ago. ” 

" You are a widower, then, and your father is dead since 
you bear the title of vicomte?” 

"Alas! yet.” 

"Then, alas! you are enormously rich?” uttered Hen- 
rietta, mockingly — " and you have come to spend your 
money amongst these g'redins d^ Anglais, as Madame 
Lemaire used to call us. ” 

" I have been forced to seek distraction,” replied the 
vicomte, still preserving an expression of melancholy on 
his handsome face. "That of the most exciting was 
offered me by le sport: one of my horses is now at Long- 
champs. I sent him over to run for the Ascot Cup — the 


m 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


Derby was long over — and I make no doubt be would have 
won, but that the sacre groom let him injure himself in the 
stable.-’^ 

Pardon, Monsieur le Vicomte," said Henrietta, with 
dignity; it is not the fashion in England to swear before 
ladies. 

Eene had been about to relapse into the old familiarity 
with her — it must be checked at once. 

Mille 'pardons, madame!” he exclaimed, but an amused 
smile hovered about his lips. 

At this moment Mr. Fairfax came into the room. 

^^Mr. Anson is seeking you everywhere, ^'he said to 
Henrietta. saw you enter this room an hour ago, and 
thought you might still be here. ” 

Thank you,'’^ replied Henrietta, haughtily. I esteem 

myself flattered by your close supervision of my move- 
ments. Vicomte, your arm,” and she sailed past Alan 
with a proud inclination of her head. From that moment 
she hated him bitterly. For some cause — she hardly knew 
why — she felt he was a man to be feared. 

Mr. Anson made no comment upon her long absence 
until they were in the carriage. 

I thought I mentioned to you that I did not wish to 
stay longer than an hour!” he remarked petulantly. My 
head aches frightfully!” 

How thoughtless of me! — I am so sorry!” said Henri- 
etta, sweetly; but I fancied Lady Yibart wished me to 
try and amuse Monsieur de — I forget his name — the 
Frenchman, and we were talking about Paris and difl'erent 
things. I was so thankful when Mr. Fairfax told me you 
were looking for me — I was getting dreadfully bored, but 
I would do anything to please Lady Vibart. How queenly 
she looked to-night! Every one was speaking of her;” and 
Mr. Anson was quite propitiated. 

I saw no handsomer diamonds,” said the proud father. 

Not even the Duchess of Cranstones.” 

No, and I think her insigniflcant by the side of Lady 
Vibart, although they do call her the beauty of the season.ee 

^VBy the way, my dear, I was talking to Mrs. Stanhope,” 
said Mr. Anson, and I do not fancy she was altogether 
pleased at your carrying off the Frenchman. It appears 
she met him a great deal in Paris last winter, and has given 
him several introductions here — to Ethel and the Fabians 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


m 

amongst others. She tells me her brother has asked him 
to Gahriehs Wood in September, and he has promised to 
go. I wonder if he has any idea of shooting 

Further conversation was prevented by the carriage stop- 
ping at the door of the hotel. Henrietta seemed to tread 
on air now. She had lost the terrible fear which had 
haunted her all day long. De Gamier would not betray 
her — ^he was a gentleman — and then he wanted nothing of 
her. In fact, she was rather pleased at having met him, 
and been able to show him what a grand personage she had 
become, in spite of his desertion. 

am glad Mrs. Stanhope was annoyed, she thoimht: 

hate her! And now I hate that cold, proud Mr. Fair- 
fax! Why did he look so strangely at me to-night, I won- 
der?” 

And Henrietta went to sleep and dreamed she was on a 
ladder, and Mr. Fairfax was trying to drag her down. She 
awoke with a violent start and laughed to herself when she 
found it was only a dream. Bah!” she thought, ‘^^my 
dinner disagreed with me;” and -v^th that practical reflec- 
tion she went off into the peaceful sleep of childhood and 
innocence. 

When Mrs. Anson left him, the Vicomte de Gamier 
joined Mrs. Stanhope. He had been used to pay her a 
good deal of attention in Paris, and she was as jealous as 
any young girl of her sway being usurped. She was a 
handsome blonde woman, with a graceful carriage and a 
great deal of fashionable conversation. Men liked her, for 
she had considerable powers of pleasing. A great deal too 
well-bred to show any pique at the Frenchman's neglect of 
her, she pretended to think he had only just arrived. 

^^Ah! vicomte, how late you are!” she said, smiling 
graciously. You come from some other ball?” 

Ho, madame. I only dined at the Embassy, and have 
been here some time. I had the honor to he introduced to 
Lady Vibart^s telle mhre. ” 

Lady Vibart would scarcely like to hear that name ap- 
plied to the person her father has just married,” remarked 
Mrs. Stanhope, who detested Henrietta. 

^^How?” exclaimed Rene, with feigned surprise. 

Lady Vibart and this charming little lady do not love 
each other?” • 

He wanted to hear all about his old acquaintance. 


212 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


It was a sad mesalliance, you know/^ whispered Mrs. 
Stanhope, mysteriously. You would see that at once in 
conversation with her. 

Pardon, madame,^^ said Rene, I discovered nothing; 
she speaks French like a Parisian. " 

'^Oh, yes, I believe she was in Paris for some time, re- 
marked Mrs. Stanhope, whose tact failed just a little, be- 
cause she was out of temper. I never heard in what 
capacity.^^ 

De Gamier had for the last few hours experienced so 
much regret for his cruel behavior to Henrietta, that he 
felt quite disposed to champion her now, although he did not 
fail to remark it was displeasing to Mrs. Stanhope, whom 
he admired. 

She must have moved in good circles, I imagine, 
madame — she seems so perfectly conversant with the man- 
ners and life of the haute societeJ’ 

Ah, vicomte!^^ said Mrs. Stanhope, putting on a smile, 

must not press you any more. Your politeness is 
charmed against admitting the faults of a woman. " 

Ah, madame exclaimed Rene, gallantly, ^^it is suffi- 
cient for a lady to be English for me to think her every- 
thing that is charming. ” 

Tell me,^^ said Mrs. Stanhope, hastening to change the 
conversation, what do you think of our English races?” 

Does madame mean the racing itself, or the company, 
the carriages, the driving to and fro?” 
mean everything.” 

Of course, madame, racing is a national amusement, 
belonging to England, and just copied by every other nation. 
It is the only time, I think, that your country people do 
not deserve the criticism — ^they take their pleasure sadly, 
but then they take it noisily. Whether the race is inter- 
esting must depend on how much one would win or lose by 
it, else no one would care if .green, blue, or yellow came in 
first. For what you English call the fun of the road I con- 
fess I was a little shocked. When all Paris goes out to see 
the Grand Prix, they are a great throng, a vast concourse; 
but they are all well ordered, well dressed, and the convey- 
ances are respectable. But, mon Dieu ! at your Ascot — I 
have not seen your Derby, and one pretends that is still 
worse — ^what a Babylon of confusion! The noise, the 
shrieks of the canaille, and the appalling carts and ani- 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


S13 

mals, the men and women such as one never sees anywhere 
in Paris, and the ladies well dressed and in handsome car- 
riages — ah, how pitiable on their return ! And for the fun, 
I failed to see it myself. Was it the throwing of little 
wooden dolls, the big false noses, the flinging of the meal 
and flour on to the clothes of the well-dressed people 
Mrs. Stanhope was quite amused by the fervor with which 
De Gamier spoke. 

Ah!” she said, laughing, never thought before how 
much our English noise and clamor must shock you reflned 
Parisians. I feel almost ashamed to confess to you that I 
have often derived the greatest amusement from watching 
the crowds return from the Derby or Ascot, aud that last 
year I was quite disappointed to see how orderly and re- 
spectable the good bourgeois of Paris were, coming quietly 
home in their " 

It must be the fault of my discernment, madame,” smiled 
Eene; ^^your judgment could not possibly be in error. 
There are many tastes that one must acquire. When I 
leam to appreciate your English rosbif and plum-pudding, 
I shall be in a fair way to take delight in your returns from 
the races. Ah! madame,” he broke off, suddenly, do you 
not hear the divine strains of that waltz? Can you resist?” 
And Mrs. Stanhope smiled, put her hand into his arm, and 
went with him into the ball-room. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

HEART-ACHES. 

So soon forsaken! Young men’s love then lies 
Rot truly in their hearts, but in their eyes. 

Borneo and Juliet. 

Olive was unhappy. She had grown to think that her 
husband no longer loved her, and the thought was fraught 
with misery to her. She did not blame him — it was her 
own fault — or rather she was creeping back into the belief 
of the desperate hardness of her fate, which made it im- 
possible for her to win, or, at least, to keep the love she 
craved. I am never tired of being with George,” she 
argued, never weary of showing how I love him — be is 
all that is necessary to my happiness. If he loved me, 
surely he would feel the same.” She could -not compre- 


m 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADFS. 


hend the difference between the love that a man of the 
world feels for a woman, and the all-absorbing devotion of 
a young girl, who has no other care or interest to divide her 
attention. 

Sir George was very fond of Olive, but he had got over 
(as men nearly always do) the first fiush of devotion that 
made him like to be always caressing her, always in her 
society. He wanted her to get over all those f9olish, lover- 
like ways, to take an interest in society, make ’ herself 
agreeable, attract people to his house, and be quite content 
to go her own way, and let him take his. People liked 
each other all the better for not being too much together, 
and when they met it should be with pleasant smiles and 
kind words. It was a terrible thing to go home to be re- 
proached — in time it would make a man shun the place 
that ought to be his rest and pleasure. 

But Olive loved him far too dearly to act from reason or 
expediency, and found it impossible to wear a smile on her 
face while secret pain was gnawing at her heart. When he 
was away she would resolve to meet him with a pleasant 
smile, to tell him all manner of amusing gossip, to take an 
interest in what he had been doing, and then, perhaps, 
when all her sensible resolves were stretched to the utmost, 
he would not come in at all, or perhaps take up a book and 
read, and then her heart would swell, the tears come into 
her eyes, and when he spoke to her she would answer cold- 
ly, or in a reproachful tone, and he would return to his 
book with an impatient yawn. It was all very foolish — but 
natural enough. It is the way many a young wife mars her 
happiness at first — just because she can not understand or 
make allowance for the difference between the temperament 
of men and women. 

For the last few days Olive had been suffering the tor- 
ments of jealousy, because her husband had walked and 
danced more than usual with Mrs. Anson. She had pre- 
served a piqued silence at first, but to-night she felt she 
could endure it no longer, and must remonstrate with Sir 
George on the subject. 

It is always better to have matters cleared up,^^ she 
argued; ^^and if I tell George seriously that it pains me to 
see him with that woman, he will give up talking so much 
to her. Why, if it vexed him, I would never speak to a 
man again. 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


215 


Olive had just returned from a dinner party, leaving her 
husband at the club on the way home. Her sister had gone 
to bed tired, and the maid was yawning as she took her mis- 
tresses cloak. ' 

I am not going to bed yet, Willis, said Lady Fabian, 
but you need not sit up. Take the flowers out of my 
hair, and bring my dressing-gown — I shall wait up for Sir 
George.ee 

You wonet surely sit up all alone, my lady ?ee exclaimed 
Willis. I do not want to go to bed, jem sure. ee 

I do not mind at all. Leave everything ready in my 
room, and go to bed as soon as you like, ee And Olive, tired 
though she was, drew an arm-chair to the table, and began 
to read. Eleven oecrock,ee she said wearily, looking at 
the handsome time-piece, and he certainly will not be 
home before half past twelve, if^ever mind — it is my only 
chance of speaking to him alone. 

She read on until twelve, then she rose and walked about 
the room, drawing aside the blind to look out of the window. 
Every time the sound of wheels fell on her ear she thought. 
There he is!^^ and when the cab or carriage passed on with- 
out stopping, she would sigh impatiently. Her beautiful 
brown hair was unbound, and hung over her shoulders to 
her waist. Perhaps the poqr child remembered how for- 
merly her husband had liked to see it so. A quarter to one 
— one — a quarter past chimed from a neighboring church, 
and Olive began to be tormehted with imaginary fears. She 
was not very strong, and her nerves at the best of times 
were highly strung. She had fancied all sorts of accidents 
that might have happened to him; she tried to realize the 
horror of seeing him brought home ill, injured, perhaps 
dead, until she worked herself into a perfect frenzy. Half 
past one, a quarter to two, and then came the click of the 
latch-key in the door. He had walked home, then, and 
Olive ran to meet him. But her dismay was very great 
when she perceived that he was not alone — Mr. Fairfax and 
a strange gentleman came in behind him. She caught her 
husband^’s glance of vexed astonishment; she thought of 
her appearance in ihQ peignoir, with disheveled locks, and 
a crimson blush suffused her cheeks, and tears of mortifica- 
tion started to her eyes. 

What in Heaven^'s name is the matter, Olive asked 


210 FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 

Sir George, hardly able to conceal his annoyance — is any 
one ill?^^ ' 

I only wanted to speak to yon/'’ she stammered. 

Very well, dear,” said her husband, recoyering him- 
self, run away now; I shall see /you in a few minutes,” 
and as she turned to go, he said, 'forcing a laugh : 

My wife did not count upon my bringing any one home 
witli me.” ^ 

We won’t keep you,” said Mr. Fairfax. Just let us 
see that 'Bradshaw,’ and we will be off at once.” 

" Nonsense!” exclaimed the baronet; "there is no hurry. 
Stop and have a smoke. I can give you some splendid 
cigars. ” 

" No, thanks,” returned Alan. He was thinking of the 
flushed, tear-stained face, in its frame of brown -hair, and 
his heart was aching for the suffering he read there. 
" George is angry with her,” he thought; "and I should 
only have been too proud for men to see an evidence of my 
wife’s love for me. ” But then we know that what may 
appear very charming to a bachelor often seems very silly 
to a Benedict. 

Sir George was angry at what had happened; he thought 
Olive had made a fool of iierself, and these men would 
laugh at her. He was almost minded in his vexation to 
go out of the house again and not to see his wife at all. 
But presently he took a candl^ and went upstairs. 

" Oh, George! I am so sorry,” cried Olive, penitently; 
" I never dreamed that any one would be with you. ” 

" I hope this is the last tinie we shall have any nonsense 
of the sort,” replied Sir George, crossly. " You will make 
me a complete laughing-stock of my friends. ” 

" But I wanted so to speak to you, and I hardly ever see 
you alone now. ” 

" Surely I am not so inaccessible that you can not tell 
me in the day-time anything you have to say, instead of sit- 
ting up to this unearthly time in the night, and making 
yourself look like a death’s-head. What is it you want?” 

This was certainly about as hopeless a time to broach a 
delicate subject as could well have been, chosen, and Olive 
felt embarrassed and dubious as to the wisdom of saying 
what .was in her mind. But then she thought it would be 
worse still, after she had gone through so much, to leave it 
unsaid. 


JKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


217 


Sir George remained standing. • 
sit down pleaded Olive. 

would rather stand/^ he said, sulkily. I am tired 
and want to go to bed. Pray begin at once. ” 

Now Olive had quite prepared in her mind all she had to 
say; but then the situation she had arranged was a vastly 
different one from that in which she found herself. She 
had meant to sit at her husband^s feet, and when he was 
coaxed and caressed into a very good humor, she was to 
have commenced the attack with great delicacy and cau- 
tion. Now there was nothing for it but to plunge straight 
into the matter. 

I want you to do me a great favor," she began, with 
some hesitation. 

Well, what is it?" asked Sir George, with a prolonged 
yawn. 

‘‘1 have been quite unhappy lately, darling.” 

Unhappy! With a great deal of cause, I should 
think," cried the baronet, impatiently. 

know it is very foolish," said Olive, with wistful eyes, 
in which the great drops were gathering; but I do dislike 
Mrs. Anson, and I want you to promise me that you will 
not walk or dance with her any more." 

Sir Georges’s temper had been gradually rising during the 
last half hour, added to which he had lost his money at 
cards. Olivers last words brought his anger to a culminat- 
ing point. He turned to her, speaking with icy coldness. 

It will be as well to understand each other before we 
go any further. I don^t know whether you are trying to 
make me dislike you, but you are certainly choosing the 
best means to attain that end. Don^t interrupt me. I 
took you from a position very different from that in which 
I have now placed you. I have surrounded you with every 
luxury, and done my utmost to make you happy. The re- 
turn I get is this — you are peevish, silent, sullen; you meet 
me with tears and reproaches, until my home is a hell to 
me; you are full of jealousy and suspicion, and it seems to 
me your only wish is to disgrace me. Once for all, I will 
bear it no longer. Either you must behave sensibly and 
creditably, like the women with whom you mix, or I will 
allow you a handsome income, and you shall go home and 
live with your parents." And Sir George left the room, 
shutting the door violently behind him. 


218 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


It was a very cruel speech, quite uncalled for, but there 
was just enough reason in it to plunge Olivers heart into 
the depths of bitterness. She stood looking at him, with 
mute terror in her eyes, until he was gone, and then she 
sunk prone on the floor, sobbing. Never throbbed a poor 
human heart with more hitter anguish of self-reproach than 
that which wrung and convulsed the slight frame cowering 
on the ground. It was all quite true, she moaned to her- 
self. She was a wicked, ungrateful creature, who had no 
one but herself to thank for all this misery. If she could 
only get him to forgive her — to retract those bitter words — 
she would never vex him again. She rose to her feet, and 
tapped gently at the door. No answer. George, she 
whispered. Still no answer. She opened the door softly — 
the light was out. Sir George was fast asleep. And with 
a heavy heart she went back to bed. 

All this excitement and worry naturally made her feel 
very ill in the morning, and as we are apt to look at things 
differently by broad daylight, she began to be angry instead 
of peniten-t, and to think that her husband had been very 
cruel and unjust to her. ' All her pride rose in arms. What 
right had he to treat her so? She was not a child now, to 
be subject to sharp reproofs and harsh words. She would 
behave with coldness and dignity, until he came to her 
humbled and repentant. 

Sir George went down to breakfast with an uneasy con- 
sciousness that he had been unjust and unkind to his poor 
little wife. He had slept off his ill-humor, and was quite 
ready to be friends with her again — even if he had to ac- 
knowledge himself a little in the wrong. But the subject 
of Mrs. Anson must be tabooed altogether — he would have 
no restraint, put upon his actions, and Olive must learn the 
futility of an interference with his pleasure. But Olive was 
not at breakfast, nor had she sent any message that they 
were not to wait for her. After twenty minutes the baronet 
sent to ask if she was coming. The servant returned in a 
moment. 

^^Her ladyship was not coming to breakfast. 

Not the usual message, my lady^s love, and she begged 
Sir George not to wait; and her husband, angrily remark- 
ing the difference, cursed women^s sulkiness under his 
breath. 

rU go out all day, and see how she likes that/^ he 


PROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


219 


pid, savagely to himself. Alice/^ he added, to his sister- 
in-law, who entered at the moment, “ pray come and pour 
out the tea. Olive has kept me waiting an hour, and now 
it seems she is not coming at all.^^ 

He eat his breakfast in silence, reading the paper at in- 
tervals, and only replying in monosyllables to Aliceas at- 
tempts to draw him into conversation. When he had fin- 
ished he rang the bell. 

Send Willis to me!^^ he ordered curtly, and the maid 
presently appeared. 

My love to your mistress, and I am going out for the 
day. If she wishes to see me I will go upstairs. 

Willis went and returned. 

My lady^s love — ^her head ached, and she would rather 
not be disturbed. She hoped Sir George would have a 
pleasant day." 

He ground his heel very angrily in. the carpet, and went 
out with a hasty good-bye to Alice. Then • he came back 
for a moment. 

Tell Oliver not to wait dinner. I have no idea when I 
shall be home." 

He took a hansom, and drove to Mr. Fairfaxes rooms in 
St. Jameses Street. His friend was at breakfast alone, and 
Sir George flung himself impatiently into a chair. 

Alan looked up. 

Anything wrong, George?" 

^^Yes, everything." 

^^How? — you were all right last night." 

. •' A man does not feel very self-congratulatory when he 
experiences the desire ^to write himself an ass!^" 

My dear fellow, you speak in riddles. What folly are 
you regretting?" 

^^The folly of shackling myself with a woman^s temper 
and caprices." 

Sir George felt the womanish want of detailing his griev- 
ances, and Mr. Fairfax was the only man in whom he could 
confide without feeling ashamed. 

Alan made no remark. He waited quietly for the rest 
of the story. 

^‘^One gives up everything for a woman^s sake," pro- 
ceeded Sir George, irritably, and then they torment one^s 
life out with reproaches and jealousy. " 

As Mr. Fairfax listened, a feeling of contempt for the 


220 FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 

man who could thus peevishly parade a slight domestic 
difficulty, shot through his mind, followed by a quick de- 
sire to defend Olive. He checked both, and spoke kindly 
enough. 

^^My dear boy — we are none of us perfect— the more a 
man and woman love each other, the more prone they are 
to have little jealousies and bursts of anger. 

But they should be reasonable, urged Sir George. 

Did you ever hear of people being reasonable who were 
very much in love?^^ said Alan. 

It is all very well at first, exclaimed the baronet, im- 
patiently, ^^but after seven or eight months^ marriage, 
lovers^ quarrels become silly and tiresome. A woman of 
the world should be above all jealousies. " 

Then you would rather have the well-bred toleration of 
a woman than the intense devotion of such a creature as — 
as — your wife. ” 

‘■^Oh! of course it is very pleasant to be cared for, and 
thought so much of; but it is a confounded bore not to be 
able to look at or speak to another woman. Why, my wife 
might laugh and talk with all the men in London, and I 
should make no objection. 

You say that because you know you are safe,'"’ an- 
swered Alan. Look here, George,” he continued, speak- 
ing slowly, because the words were painful to him. It is 
not twice in a life, seldom even once, that a man gets such 
a love as you possess. Your wife has not a wish, a thought 
beyond you; now after eight months'’ marriage, she cares 
for no society beyond yours — she would rather have you 
standing beside her carriage talking to her than a duke. I 
agree with you she is wrong — for her own sake — ^but for 
yours! Ah! my boy, I would change places with a clerk on 
two pounds a week, to know a woman loved me as Lady 
Fabian loves you. ” 

Sir George was decidedly impressionable, and when any 
reliable person told him he possessed a great treasure, he 
was rather inclined to believe them. 

dare say I was a little hasty,” he remarked: '^but 
you know, Alan, it does not do to give in too much to 
women. They are so unreasonable. If I left off talking 
to Mrs. Anson, it would be some one else. ” 

It is hardly wox^h while giving a diamond for a bit of 
glass. If an imder-bred person like Mrs, Anson cost you the 


FEOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


221 


love of a true woman, you might be apt to regret the ex- 
change/'’ 

I do not see why you should hate that pocr little creat- 
ure so, although I am flattered by your thinking so much 
of my wife!^^ exclaimed the unsuspecting baronet. am 
otf to Hampton races. I wish you would come too.^^ 

Hampton races! My dear fellow, your taste must be 
at a very low ebb. ” 

I half promised Oatchcart last night, and it is very 

f ood fun to see the company there. Besides, I mean to 
eep out of the way until my wife recovers her temper. I 
said I should not be back to dinner. 

A sudden thought occurred to Mr. Fairfax. He must 
have cared very much for Olive to be so tenderly thought- 
ful for her. 

I want you all to come and try bachelor^s fare to-night, 
and go to the opera afterward. I have a box on the grand 
tier, and we can dine at seven. If you promise to be back 
in time, I will go and ask Lady Fabian niyself this morn- 
ing."" 

All right,"" said Sir George, who was beginning to feel a 
little anxious to make up the quarrel with his wife. Then 
if you see Olive, just say I will be home in time to dress, and 
will bring them on here. Good-bye, old fellow. Will you 
take a hundred to six on Brummagen?"" 

No, thanks. Good-bye. Eemember seven o"clock, and 
don’t be late."" 

By the way, what"s the opera?"" 

^ Fra Diavolo," "" said Alan, after a side glance at the 
Times."" 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

NOBLESSE OBLIGE. 

He spoke but lightly of the lady’s virtue, 

As a gay man might speak. 

Longfellow. 

Mr. Fairfax sat thinking a long time after Sir George 
Fabian had gone out. 

""He does not deserve her,"" Alan said to hiniself; ""he 
can not appreciate the intense love that makes her afraid 
to see liini look tenderly at another woman. Poor little 


^22 FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 

thing! I dare say he has spoken harshly to her, and she is 
breaking her heart about it. " 

I think very few men would have had the honor or cour- 
age to act as Alan Fairfax did. There was a horrible 
temptation to let the breach widen between these two 

S ".e, that some day the woman whom he loved so dearly 
t come in her despair to accept and value a very real 
devotion. He put that thought away quickly — at once, for 
very fear lest he should ever be base enough to let it influence 
him. No matter what I suffer so long as I make her 
happy, he said, with a chivalry not born of religion, but 
which in that moment came very near the divine creed of 
the peace-maker. Presently he put on his hat and went 
into Bond Street to get a box at Covent Garden. Then he 
turned his steps in the direction of Brook Street. 

Is Lady Fabian at home?^^ he asked of the servant. 

I will inquire if my lady is down, sir: she was not half 
an hour ago." 

Mr. Fairfax walked into the dining-room, and the man 
went to make inquiries. * 

My lady is in the drawing-room," he said, returning, 
“and will be pleased to see you, sir." 

Alan followed him, conscious of a certain nervousness, 
very alien from his customary self-possession. 

The room was darkened, and Lady Fabian was sit- 
ting with her back to the light. She did not rise to receive 
him, but in a moment his quick eyes discerned that she had 
been crying bitterly. 

have only just come down," she said, languidly; 
“my head, aches badly, and I have had scarcely any 
sleep. " 

“ I am so sorry," Alan answered, gently. “ I fear these 
late hours do not agree with you." 

He had forgotten the little episode of the night before, 
but Olive remembered it and colored vividly. 

“You must have thought me very foolish last night," 
she uttered, confusedly, “ but I had no idea — I did not ex- 
pect for one moment that George would have any one with 
him. I sat up because — because I was a little nervous, and 
I had a very interesting book to read. Did Colonel Vane 
think me very silly?" 

We both thouglit how fortunate George was in having 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 223 

some one to care for him so much,” replied Mr. Fairfax, 
kindly. 

“He does not think so,” said Olive, affecting to laugh, 
but with a shade of bitterness. 

“ I am sure he does. He told me only a little while ago 
what happiness there is being loved very much. ” 

“ Oh, Mr. Fairfax ! did he?” cried Olive, her eyes brighten- 
ing. “I have been afraid lately that he was angry with 
me for wanting to be so much with him, and thought me 
exacting. ” 

“ Lady Fabian,” said Alan, gently, after a slight pause, 

I have known your husband so long, that anything which 
affects him or his concerns me dearly. Will you look upon 
me as a friend too, and let me say something without 
thinking me bold? I am not prone to interfere in matters 
which do not concern me — only where I care very much for 
people.” 

“No one can accuse you of undue interference,” re- 
marked Lady Fabian, with a wondering smile; “we always 
think your great failing is a want of interest in things and 
people. Now please begin.” 

Mr. Fairfax forced a smile. 

“ I was going to give you a little of the experience of 
thirty seven years. I do not advocate a knowledge of the 
world — nay, I think people far happier without it; but 
there are some things necessary for our own advantage tliat 
we should learn.” 

“Ah, yes!” assented Olive: “I wish you would only tell 
me some of the numerous things I fall short in. ” 

Will you have me for a Mentor?” 

“ Yes, rather than any one else in the world. You know 
I can not bear to be told of my faults,” Olive said, ingenu- 
ously, “but I think I never could be offended at anything 
you said.” 

Alan sighed. Those last kind words were the greatest 
proof of her indifference to him. 

“ You will say I am not to be relied on,” he commenced. 
“ Hitherto I have alwap told you I hated women of the 
world, and now I am going to advocate your copying them 
a little more. ” 

“ I see. You^are like George — you find so much sim- 
plicity tiring,” interrupted Olive, with a shade of pique. 

“ I should never tire of it,” he answered quickly; “lam 




FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


thinking of your own happiness. Now forgive what I am 
going to say. Human nature is at all times disposed to be 
contradictory, and to set the most value on things that are 
out of its reach. Your husband has always been used 
to perfect freedom of action, without a shadow of control. 
He has been accustomed to be very much liked and flattered 
by women, and marriage does not cure a man of vanity all 
at once.'’^ 

Mr. Fairfax spoke lightly, but the tears sprung to Olivers 
eyes. 

know what you mean,” she said; you think I am 
foolish and jealous. ” 

Certainly not foolish; I only think that if you let 
George go where he pleases, without seeming vexed or ask- 
ing questions, he will gradually cease to desire or care for lib- 
erty, and will value no place like his home. Perhaps .it might 
be impertinent for me to hazard any remark about how dear- 
ly he loves you, and how constantly you are in his thoughts. 

Impulsive as ever, Olive rose froni the sofa, and put out 
her hand to Alan, little dreaming how that simple action 
stirred the quick blood in his veins. 

A thousand thanks! — I never saw the force of such ar- 
guments before to-day — I will try with all my strength to 
act up to your advice,” and she resumed her seat, wonder- 
ing a little at the coldness and lightness of the clasp with 
which he returned her warm pressure. She little guessed 
the strong effort of will that made his grasp so loose and 
indifferent. 

I am forgetting George^s message all this time,” he 
said, changing the subject quickly. He has promised for 
you and Miss Hamilton that you will come and dine with 
me in St. James' Street to-night, and go to the opera 
afterward% He will be home in time to' dress and bring 
you.” 

A look of such glad brightness came into Olive's face, 
that it seemed to Allan like the sun issuing in all its radi- 
ance from behind a cloud. Seeing it, he was rewarded. 

How delightful! — I would rather come and dine with 
you like that than go to the grandest dinner party of the 
season.” 

And your headache will not prevent — ” 

My head is well already at the thought,” but he knew 
why she was so glad. 


FEOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


225 


When Sir George returned home that evening, he had no 
cause to complain of a cold reception. His wife flew to 
him, her face beaming with smiles, kissed him a hundred 
times, dancing about in the most childish glee, and he was 
delighted. All dinner-time they were talking together, 
and exchanging smiles of renewed love and confidence. 
Mr. Fairfax, noting it, half sighed, half smiled. We do 
not always experience that intense satisfaction in having 
done a good action that moralists would have us think — at 
least, not always at the time. Ten years later, when we 
have outlived a passion, and forgotten the sharp pangs our 
self-renunciation cost us, we may reap the reward of virtue 
in our own consciences. 

That evening there was no mention from Sir George of 
going to the club for an hour; he wished Mr. Fairfax a 
cordial good-night on the steps of the opera-house, and 
jumped into the carriage after his wife and sister-in-law. 

Alan lighted a cigar, sent away his brougham, and walked 
meditatively to his club in St. James^’s Street. He had a 
weary sort of feeling that there was not very much in life 
worth living for — at least, for him. His thoughts were 
not the puling crossness with fate that many men feel when 
something disappoints them, and their pet projects go 
wrong — it was more that deep, unsatisfied yearning after 
rest and happiness that the noblest minds experience the 

most acutely. There were very few men in at ^s when 

he entered — no one he cared to speak to — and he threw 
himself into one of the luxurious lounges, and continued 
his involuntary meditations. So intent were his thoughts 
that he did not remark the men who came in and went out, 
did not perceive that the room had gradually filled, until 
he suddenly seemed to wake to consciousness with a start. 
Two men were holding a conversation just behind him; he 
recognized the speakers^ voices as belonging to Captain 
Anson and Lord Grantham. Mechanically Alan listened to 
their talk, which was carried on in anything but whispers. 
He had often been amused by Lord Grantham's opinions; 
they were generally characterized by common sense and 
originality, and to-night he was disposed to hail anything 
that should take him out of the weariness of his own re- 
jections. 

Grevil's hearty tones fell first on his ear; He was talk- 
ing of some horrible outrages that had been committed 


226 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


in China^ an account of which had appeared in the evening 
paper. 

What cruel blackguards those Chinese are!^*’ he said, 
with an accent of disgust. 

Cruel, my dear fellow cried Lord Grantham, whose 
greatest weakness was love of argument. Brutality is 
often a matter of habit, and people^s ideas on the subject 
are so dilferent. Look at our pretty, delicate women, who 
would scream with terror at the sight of a little blood, and 
be in a perfect agony because a horse tumbled down. And 
yet, don^t the pretty creatures drive their ponies along the 
crown of the road in a boiling hot sun at the rate of fifteen 
miles an hour? Don^t they know,- do you think, that the 
calf their cook makes such a delicate fricandeau of is put 
to a cruel, lingering death, that their critical eyes may not 
be offended by the brownness of the meat? Don^t they 
know that the lobsters are literally boiled alive, and eels 
actually writhe in agony after being flayed; that salmon 
and cod are cut into ornaments while yet alive, to improve 
it for their dainty tables? Do you think boys have any 
consciousness that they are guilty of an atrocity in setting 
on a dog to worry a cat to death, or that a costermonger 
believes it cruelty to maltreat and starve the poor beast 
who helps to gain him his daily bread? What about our 
fine gentlemen of forefathers, who delighted in bull-baiting 
and cock-fighting? What about the Spanish women, who 
clap their hands and cry, ^ Brava, toro !* when the bull 
gores a splendid horse or a matador to death? Did any 
one, think you, ever try to realize the death a fly dies on a 
^ catch-^’em alive ?^ 

^^My dear Grantham cried Grevil, laughing, after 
that long and windy eloquence, I shall not think of haz- 
arding any more assertions. I believe, for the sake of ar- 
gument, you would insist that, to be a model Christian, 
a man must break every one of the Ten Commandments.^^ 

^^Well, I dare say that would not be so impossible to 
prove as you seem to think, laughed Lord Grantham. 

You never get a more severe stickler for religious observ- 
ance and nioral conversation than your ante-rake and 
blasphemer; and you know, ^ there is more joy over one 
sinner ^ — But well steer clear of religion,'’^ broke off his 
lordship, who respected sacred subjects, if he did not always 
act up to their teaching. 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


227 


I don^t put much faith in reformed rakes,” said Cap- 
tain Anson. You very seldom find a man gives up his 
bad habits until they have given him up. Nobody finds 
out the sourness of the grapes like our friend Reynard — no- 
body sees the fruitlessness and the folly of a gay worldly 
life like the sated voluptuary who can no longer enjoy. ” 
That^s true enough,” replied Lord Grantham, agreeing 
for once with what some one else said. And they then 
make use of an argument which provoked me inexpressibly. 
I often hear people say (men and women too), Ah! and 
after all, what are these fieeting pleasures worth when they 
are past? — the charming society — the rounds of visits — the 
splendid house and appointments, the consideration of our 
friends — our wealth and luxury — our beauty, and the ad- 
miration it excited!^ Of course it is nothing to us when it 
is past,” continued the speaker energetically, any more 
than a great sorrow we have outlived, or a rich dinner that 
disagreed with us a month ago. But it is a great deal to 
us at the time; and when pleasures are gone, instead of 
uttering puling regrets after, and trying to undervalue 
them, we should try to get as much pleasure as we can out 
of the remembrance of them.” 

Hear, hear!” said Alan, looking up with an amused 
smile, and the other men turned at his voice. 

Is that you, Fairfax?” said Captain Anson; where 
have you been hiding? I thought I looked all round the 
room when I came in. ” 

Mr. Fairfax glanced at his watch. 

I have occupied this chair for the last hour,” he an- 
swered. suppose I must have been dreaming or in a 
brown study, since I was unconscious of your presence until 
I overheard Grantham^s very spirited defense of cruelty. ” 
IVe been wanting to see you ever since yesterday, to 
ask you who that little woman with the light hair was you 
bowed to from the club steps. I used to see her years ago 
in Paris. I should have asked you at the time, but Grey 
came up to ask me something about Goodwood, and I 
forgot. 

Alan happened to remember the circumstance perfectly. 
The lady in question was Mrs. Anson, and he dreaded any 
further remark from Lord Grantham before Grevil. 

Fortunately at this moment Captain Anson rose to go. 


228 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


I promised Warne to look in at his place about one; 
he is giving a supper to a select party. 

Warner's parties are generally very select/^ laughed 
Lord Grantham. Good-night, Anson — a pleasant morn- 
ing. 

Good-night, Grantham — au revoir, Fairfax. Idl look 
you up to-morrow about breakfast-time. 

Do,^^ said Alan. Ten o^clock — good-night. 

Lord Grantham returned to the subject. About that 


Are 


woman. 

This room is stifling, remarked Mr. Fairfax, 
you going home? I will walk part of the way with you.” 

Come along. I will tell you why I want to know more 
about her. I fancy she has got more than one turn from 
the wheel of the blind goddess. A few years ago, when I 
was not overburdened with money, and found it conveni- 
ent to get out of the way for awhile, I spent a winter 
in Paris. I used to see that woman everywhere — in the 
Bois, at the opera — at all the supper places — ^in the danc- 
ing saloons, etc., etc. She was generally talking to a lot 
of men, but there was one dark, good-looking young French- 
man always about with her. I never spoke to her myself^ 
and could not quite make out whether she was French or 
English. After a few months I missed her, and she never 
came to any of the old haunts again. I fancy she got down 
in the world, for the following winter, when I was in Paris 
for a month, I am certain I saw her two or three times with 
a vulgar old woman, looking very shabby and quite altered. 
I never saw her afterward until yesterday in that carriage, 
when you took off your hat to her. Who has she got hold 
of now? I saw an old^man with her.” 

Mr. Fairfax was not altogether surprised at what he 
heard, but he felt very sorry for his old friend, Cuthbert 
Anson. 

‘^‘^You are under some mistake, Grantham,” he said, 
after a slight pause. The person you saw me bow to was 
a lady — the wife of some one you know too.” 

Ifll lay my life that woman in the carriage was the one 
I knew in Paris. Who in the world was fool enough to 
marry her?” 

Grevil Anson^s father.” 

Lord Grantham gave a prolonged whistle. ^ 

^^The deuce!” he ejaculated; ‘^and I nearly came out 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 229 

with the whole story before him. Who does the woman 
say she was, and where did Anson pick her up?^^ 

She was Lady Vibart^s companion, Grantham,^' said 
Alan, presently: do me the favor not to mention this to 
any one else. Your surmise as to Mrs. Anson's identity 
may be correct, but more ^ probably is not. You only 
caught a glimpse of her. " 

^‘1 saw her again to-day in the Row. But of course I 
shall say nothing. ^ Where ignorance is bliss 'tis folly to 
be wise. ' I am only glad I happened to mention it when 
you were alone. " 

Lord Grantham had taken Mr. Fairfax's arm — as he ut- 
tered the last word they were passing Claridge's Hotel. A 
gentleman was just alighting from a hansom. 

Stop!" whispered Lord Grantham, suddenly, in an ex^ 
cited whisper; ^^do you see that fellow just going in?" 

Yes — what of him?" 

That's the man who was always about with her in 
Paris.'' 

There was no longer any doubt in Mr. Fairfax's mind. 
The man was the Vicomte de Gamier! 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

BAD TO THE CORE. 

But the lady loved at last, 

And the passion pained her soul, 

And her hope away was cast 
Far beyond her own control. 

Barry Cornwall. 

% 

Does the present realization of former ardent aspirations 
always bring us happiness? No — one may almost say never. 
It is not possible to climb to the top rail of content and 
satisfaction and take our stand there, watching less fort- 
unate neighbors from our blissful altitude. The thing that 
would, or, rather, that we thought Would make us happy, 
two, three, or half a dozen years ago, comes to us to-day, 
when we have ceased to long for or value it. Are the rich, 
the prosperous, the noble of the earth content because they 
have won wealth, consideration, station? No. If we seek 
thankful hearts and contented minds, turn we from the 
habitations of the great ones of this world — turn we into 


^30 


FEOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


some hovel, where God’s sun rarely shines, to the poor pal- 
let of one of His most afflicted sons, and we shall chance to 
find a truer appreciation of benefits, a more grateful recog- 
nition of mercies, than from those on whom Providence 
seems to have lavished every good. 

Henrietta Anson, having reached the culminating point 
of her quondam ambition, was ‘miserable, restless, dissatis- 
fied. In the old weary days at the Boulogne boarding- 
school, her life had seemed less burdensome to her than 
now. 

Heartless as she had been all her life, without a thought 
for others, except the desire to make them subservi- 
ent to her own advancement, fate or an ill-regulated 
mind had taken her beyond herself, out of her own wary 
self-control. She had not a thought in the day-time or 
night that was not in some way relative to her strange pas- 
sion for Sir George Fabian. She made no effort to control 
it, but let it sway her through every mad phase of longing 
and envy. Coute que coUte, she would indulge, and he 
should return it. Perhaps the very unlawfulness and wick- 
edness of her unrestrained passion gave a zest to that mind 
in which all moral sense had been wai-ped so early. Her 
life ought to have been a paradise after the long years of 
drudgery and uncertainty her youth had waded through. 
The blackness of her own heart turned it into Hades. Out- 
wardly she was as smooth, as winning, as gay as ever; her 
manner to her husbaiid was no less considerate, her atten- 
tions no less frequent and empressees, 

Mr. Anson loved her very much. Ste had beconie nec- 
essary to his existence. He felt ten years younger and 
fresher since he had come under the influence of her bright- 
ness and vivacity. After a time that indulgent feeling 
which most kind-hearted men have toward wives much 
younger than them^selves actuated all his thoughts of her. 
He was quite willing to afford her any pleasure in his power, 
to grant her anything she thought fit to ask for. So when 
she experienced a desire to learn riding (that she might 
more often be with him, she said) he bought a horse at once 
and gave her lessons in riding himself. She persuaded 
him to call on the officers of the — th Dragoon Guards, then 
stationed at Lendal, and to invite them over to dinner. A 
little cheerful society would be so good for him, she ar- 
gued. 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


231 


Under her auspices Anson Court became quite gay again 
— almost as when Queen Ethel had reigned there, only the 
circle was not quite so brilliant or exclusive. Henrietta 
was a great favorite with most of the men; at least, they 
liked very much to flirt with her and to dine at the Court. 
When they spoke of her it was generally in praise, but there 
was an indefinable something in the accent that one never 
hears in the intonation of a man when be respects a woman. 
There was only one man who never came to her, never 
called on her, never addressed a word more to her than 
courtesy demanded, and that man was Alan Fairfax. She 
detested him, she writhed under his look, she was never 
at ease in his presence; he made her feel as though he had 
an intuitive knowledge of her thoughts and character. She 
was the only person who had fathomed his real feeling for 
Lady Fabian, and she hated him for his honor and courage 
in controlling it. 

September had come. Sir George and Lady Fabian were 
entertaining a party of guests at GabrieFs Wood, amongst 
others the Vicomte de Gamier. As it rarely occurs to 
Frenchmen to take pleasure in the society of unmarried 
women, Rene never for one moment thought of paying at- 
tention to any of the young ladies, but devoted himself 
exclusively to his hostess. He was charmed by her grace 
and brightness, besides being slightly piqued into admira- 
tion by her indifference. She* accepted his exaggerated 
compliments with arch amusement, and laughed at them; 
or if he became too tender in his. glances, or warm in his 
expressions, she would assume tha^ courteous dignity which 
is the safeguard of modest women, and which every man 
who has the feeling of a gentleman knows how to respect. 

When Mrs. Anson saw how much epris the young man 
had become, she felt angry. With the dislike that all bad 
people feel for a person they have injured, or design to in- 
jure, she wanted to persuade herself that there was nothing 
lovable nor admirable in Olive — that she had neither tact 
nor beauty. Nothing provoked her so much as to hear 
Lady Fabian spoken well of, and when she remarked 
that Rene, as well as Mr. Fairfax, found such a charm 
in her presence, she was enraged beyond measure. There- 
was a shade of piqued jealousy in her anger too; she had 
fancied Rene would be rather inclined to seek and court 
her, to find relief in her society from the prudery of En- 


2d2 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


glish matrons. Eene saw through her feeling and laughed 
to himself. 

Mon Dieu he ejaculated, fancy playing at propriety, 
and carrying on a cold flirtation, with the ci-devant Ma- 
dame la Baronne.'’^ In public he always treated her with 
the greatest respect, but sometimes, when they chanced to 
he alone, he would lapse into an easy familiarity that an- 
noyed her. One day Mr. and Mrs. Anson were dining at 
OabrieBs Wood. The party was a pleasant one; every one 
seemed to enjoy it thoroughly. The Vicomte de Gamier 
reflected to himself that a great deal too much was said 
and thought abroad about the stiffness and dullness of En- 
glish people. And now he was getting more used to them, 
he liked their potent wines, too. On this occasion, although 
Eene did not drink as much as many gentlemen present, he 
was not sufficiently seasoned to carry it quite as well as they 
did, and became slightly hilarious. The moment he en- 
tered the drawing-room Henrietta perceived, by the bright- 
ness of his eyes and his unusual vivacity, what had occurred, 
and felt uneasy. She knew well enough that on those rare 
occasions when he overpassed the limits of sobriety, he was 
apt to be extremely communicative, and rather affection- 
ate. Suppose it should enter his head to speak of her to 
any one; he was just in that state when all considerations 
of expediency had lost their power. Fortunately he caught 
her eye, and she beckoned him to the seat beside her. 

What does the belle Henriette want with me?^^ he in- 
quired, tenderly. 

^^Hush!” she whispered, softly, with a glance to the 
adjacent sofa, where Mr. Anson sat talking to an elderly 
lady. 

Tiens ! j avals ouhlieV^ laughed Rene. ^^The un- 
fortunate husband! You remember, ma belle, those lines 
of Alfred de Musset?” 

Hush, Rene, I beseech you!” implored Henrietta, now 
becoming terribly uneasy. Come and look at that folio 
of prints. ” 

have seen them a thousand times, but to please 
you — ” and they rose together, and went to the further end 
of the room, w&re the pictures lay under the lamplight. 
He looked at a few and yawned. 

If you 'do not absolutely want me, cherie, I have a de- 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 233 

sire to talk to my beautiful hostess. Her regards have been 
turned this way more than once. 

Monsieur de Gamier, pray stay with me a little. 

Monsieur de Gamier!'^ he repeated, with a foolish 
laugh. Why not Eene — it always used to be Rene?” 

At this unfortunate moment Mr. Fairfax came up with 
a request from Lady Fabian that Mrs. Anson would sing. 

%Ah! yes, sing!” cried De Gamier. That chanson- 
ette of Theresa^s you used to give us in the little Hotel St. ■ 
Honore. ” 

Monsieur de Gamier,” said Henrietta, in such an ac- 
cent, and with such a look, that he was sobered for the mo- 
ment. 

Mille pardons, madame,” he stammered. was 
thinking — ” • 

Thinking you spoke to some one else, I presume,” said 
Mrs. Anson, superbly, taking Mr. Fairfaxes preferred arm. 

Our English wines are too potent for foreigners, I fear,” 
she -remarked to Mr. Fairfax as he led her across the room. 

He made no answer except a slight bow, and she sat down 
to the piano, with an agonized suspicion that the man she 
detested knew something ’of her previous career. But pres- 
ently Sir George came up and sat beside her, speaking in a 
low voice, and praising her song, and for the time she for- 
got her uneasiness. De Gamier, apparently annoyed with 
himself, remained sitting alone at the further end of the 
room, and Mr. Fairfax was talking to Miss Hamilton. 

Can you ride over to-morrow?” whispered Sir George, 
as he bade her good-night. You are fond of horses, and 
I have a new hunter coming on trial.” 

I will, if possible,” she answered in the same tone; 

there is no sight I like so well as a handsome man on a 
fine horse. ' How your wife must love to see you ride !” she 
added, knowing it was the terror of poor Olivers life. 

The next day at the appointed time Mrs. Anson made 
her appearance in the carriage. Mr. Anson had been 
obliged to go into Lendal, so she came alone. The horse 
was led out — a fine spirited chestnut — powerful and evi- 
dently self-willed. Mr. Fairfax, Olive, and Mrs. Anson 
were the only spectators. 

^^What a splendid creature!” cried Henrietta, enthusi- 
astically. My favorite color, too.” 

I do not like her eye, George,” said Mr. Fairfax. I 


S34 


PKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


would not buy her. She has a treacherous look, as if she 
” ou just when it was most important she should 



° “Hike something to conquer/^ laughed the baronet, 
and chestnuts always have a tremendous spirit. 

I don^t mind spirit, but I object to vice.'’^ 

I do not think Sir George knows the meaning of the 
word fear,^^ interrupted Henrietta, trying in her quiet way 
to provoke Mr. Fairfax, but he did not even suspect the 
drift of her remark. Are you going to mount she 
Bsked, turning to Sir George. 

^^Ho, please don% George exclaimed Olive; ^^send it 
hack. I am sure it is vicious. 

You surely can not have any fear for such a splendid 
rider as your husband. Lady Fabian said Henrietta, 
softly. • 

Olive made no answer. Oh, George, don^t ride that 
creature! — Mr. Fairfax, persuade him not!'’^ she entreated, 
as her husband went up to the animal. 

An angry flush came across Sir George^s handsome face. 

Do you want to make me lose all my nerve he ask- 
ed, sharply. That^s what spoils men^s pluck, to be al- 
ways putting danger into their heads. 

Danger r laughed Henrietta, scornfully. 

Olive hated her in that moment. She said nothing, but 
gave her an indignant glance. 

Henrietta turned to Sir George. 

If Lady Fabian is really afraid for you,^^ she said, with 
intention, pray do not attempt it.^^ 

For answer he put his foot into the stirrup. 

The chestnut reared, plunged, backed, but Sir George 
was determined, and, after a few ineffectual attempts, 
flung himself into the saddle. 

Let go,” he cried to the groom, and in a moment the 
animal started off down the avenue, careering, back-jumjD- 
ing, trying everything in her power to unseat her rider. 
Olive was trembling in every limb, and the tears stood in 
her eyes; Alan was miserable because he could not help 
her. 

have seen George on much more vicious animals— he 
has a splendid seat,” he said, trying to give her some com- 
fort. 

^^Let us go after him!” she exclaimed, hurrying for- 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


2S5 


ward, as a turn of the road took him out of sight. Pres- 
ently Sir George reappeared. The mare was still fretting 
and chafing, but considerably more quiet than when sho 
started. 

You see it is only a little show just at first, said the 
baronet, she is quiet enough now. I think I shall like 
her very much. ” 

I should like to see you leap something, said Henri- 
etta, looking up at him. 

Mrs. Anson, said Olive, impetuously, I can not un- 
derstand what motive you have in trying to persuade Sir 
George to do things that are unsafe.” 

Come round to the field on the left, and I will take 
her over that low fence,” said Sir George to Mrs. Anson, 
at the same time darting an impatient look at Olive. 

You had better be in-doors if you are going to be so fool- 
ish,” he remarked. 

It was the first time for months that he had spoken a 
cross word to her. Then he rode off, and Mrs. Anson 
walked along by his side. 

Will you not go in?” asked Allan, gently. I will see 
no harm comes to George. ” 

^^No!” she said quickly, her voice trembling. had 
rather go too. Let us come this short way through this 
gate. ” 

Sir George was taking a preliminary canter round the 
field. The mare was getting quiet, and settling down into 
a more even stride. 

Stand well out of the way!” he shouted, as he came 
round, ^'so that she may not see you.” 

Then he turned the chestnut, and put her straight at the 
fence. She went at it fairly enough, as if she meant going; 
but at the very moment she ought to have jumped, she 
glided off like a cat, and ran along the side of the fence. 
Such a totally unexpected movement would have unseated 
a less expert horseman — ^it only put Sir George considerabl3r 
out of temper. He took her back again and again, holding 
her like a vise that she should not play the same trick. 
Olive was fairly sobbing by this time— even Henrietta 
looked a little anxious, and Mr. Fairfax was cursing her 
bitterly in his heart as the cause of all this vexation. 

The fourth time Sir George was determined the vixen 
should go. He took her quickly up, plunged his spurs into 


236 


FEOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


her sides, and let his whip fall sharply across her. She 
gave a snort, half- jumped, half-refused — there was a crash, 
and she came heavily down with her rider. 

With a great cry that made Alan’s heart ache, Olive fell 
forward in a swoon. He gave one glance and saw that 
Sir George was on his legs, then he took Olive in his arms 
to carry her in. 

0, Mr. Fairfax!” cried Henrietta, really frightened. 

He looked at her savagely. 

Are you satisfied with your devilry?” he said, in such 
a tone as he had never thbught in, his life to use to a woman. 

He carried Olive to the house in his arms as if she had 
been some little child. He was in an agony. Would this 
kill her? — was she perhaps dead already of the fright? Her 
lips and cheeks were ghastly white — her eyes were closed. 
Half way he met the groom. 

^^Run to your master,” he said, and then went on with 
his burden. The servants came running out. Send 
Greet at once!” he ordered, as he laid Olive down on the 
sofa in the drawing-room. I will go for the doctor my- 
self. ” He was round at the stables in a moment, putting 
the bridle on his horse, which stood ready saddled. The 
grooms stood wondering at his white face and quick move- 
ments. 

Out of the way!” he cried, as they came round him, 
and in a moment he was mounted, and galloping down the 
avenue. His splendid horse, obedient to the least motion 
of his master’s hand, settled into a swift ride, never slack- 
ening speed until they came fco the paved street that led to 
Mr. Parndon’s door in Lendal. 

The doctor was just getting into the gig. 

^^Good heavens! Mr. Fairfax, w'hat is the matter?” he 
cried, seeing the blanched look on Alan’s face. 

Lady Fabian is very ill!” he said, breathlessly. For 
God’s sake don’t lose a moment !” and then he gave a glance 
of despair at the slow-paced old cob in the doctor’s gig. 

I will be off at once,” cried Mr. Parndon, urging its 
steed to its best pace. 

A sudden thought occurred to Mr. Fairfax. He had told 
one of his grooms to take a message into Lendal; perhaps 
the man might have brought the stanhope with his trotting 
mare. He rode quickly through the town into the yard of 
the inn where he generally put up. The first thing that 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


237 


met his gaze was the mare being harnessed to the light two- 
wheeled carriage. 

Thank God!^^ he ejaculated. Granger!” he said to 
the man, ‘^1 want the stanhope. Walk the Czar all the 
way home. ” And taking the reins, he drove out of the 
yard, and along the road after the doctor. He overtook 
him in five minutes. Mr. Parndon hearing something 
come furiously up behind him, hastened to get out of the 
way, thinking it was a runaway horse. 

Come with me!” cried Alan, pulling up, and Mr. Parn- 
don obeyed. 

I never want to go that pace again,” he said, relating 
the story afterward. ‘‘^Five miles and a half in twenty 
minutes is very well for people to whom breaking their 
necks is no object; but for a steady-going man like myself 
— eight miles an hour is the quickest rate I care to travel 
behind a horse. ” 

They arrived none too soon. Sir George was bending in 
an agony over his wife^s still senseless forni, while Greet 
and Mrs. Anson were using every effort in their power to 
restore her. 

She must be put to bed at once,” said Mr. Parndon, 
with a very grave face. Sir George, will you carry her 
up?” 

He looked at Mr. Fairfax: 

Alan, will 'you? • I have sprained my arm.” 

And without another word, Alan, his heart beating with 
agony at the blanched face, took her once more in his arms, 
and carried her upstairs. 

It was weeks before she issued from her room. For days 
her life was despaired of. Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton were 
sent for; every one went crying about the house; the mis- 
tress was so universally beloved. . Worse than all, their heir 
was born dead. 

Sir George had escaped from his accident with nothing 
more than a sprained wrist, the chestnut with a few 
scratches. When the baronet heard all Mr. Fairfax had 
done,, he went over to him at once. 

God bless you, old fellow,” he said, grasping his hand. 

One doesn't often get such a friend as you. I believe you 
saved Olive's life.” 


238 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

LE PREMIER PAS. 

I will grow round him in his place — 

Grow, live, die looking on his face — 

Die, dying clasped in his embrace. 

Tennyson. 

Happily the guilty suffer sometimes as well as the inno- 
cent, and for some time after the unhappy events of which 
she had been the cause, Mrs. Anson’s frame of mind was 
far from enviable. Not that she felt any remorse at Lady 
Fabian’s sufferings — on the contrary, she had a wicked kind 
of gratification at the poor child’s misfortunes, but an un- 
easy consciousness tormented her that every one who heard 
the rights of the story would lay great blame on her. Now 
that her object was to be liked, and thought well of, this 
would be infinitely unpleasant. Worse than all, she 
dreaded the effect it might have on Sir George. Unless he 
had any deeper sentiment than liking for her, it might 
cause a revulsion of feeling, and make him shun and avoid 
her. In the moment when she had heard the crash, and 
seen horse and rider struggling together in a confused 
mass, a deadly sickness had come over her — an a^ny of 
horror lest he was seriously injured. When Mr. Fairfax 
turned from her with Olive in his arms, she had run breath- 
lessly to Sir George’s side. Horse and rider were both up, 
the chestnut greatly sobered by the fall. 

Are you much hurt?” she cried, trembling with emo- 
tion and anxiety. 

Not worth mentioning,” he answered, trying to smile, 
but very white from the pain of his arm — just a strain. 
What is the matter with Olive?” 

Only a little faintness — she will recover in a moment. 
I shall never forgive myself if you are hurt. ” 

My dear Mrs. Anson, do not think of it. It would 
have happened just the same, whether you were here or 
not. I must have tried the brute to see if she would jump. ” 
Let me tie up your arm,” Henrietta entreated, taking 
his handkerchief and knotting it to her own delicate cam- 
bric and lace, and he stooped for her to fasten it on his 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


239 


shoulder. I should have died/^ she said passionately, if 
' you had been seriously hurt through my fault. 

He looked wonderingly at her, scarcely knowing what to 
say. . At this moment the groom ran up. 

Hope you^'re not hurt, sir?^^ 

No, Wood, nothing to speak of. Look" to the mare; I 
don^t think she^s hurt any more than a few flesh scratches. 
It would have served the brute right if she had broken her 
neck. 

Good job, she didn^t, sir, or you^d have to pay the two 
hundred for her, and she aiidt worth the half.-’^ 

^^There^s something in that, said Sir George, walking 
toward the house. Why, what can be the matter?" he 
added to Mrs. Anson. There is Fairfax galloping off as 
hard as the' Czar can take him," and he jumped the side 
gate, and ran toward the house. 

All the time Olive was so ill he never thought of Mrs. 
Anson, although she used to send inquiries every day, and 
often came herself. But when his wife was out of danger 
he began to remember, and to wonder at the strangeness of 
her words and looks on that eventful day. Was she in love 
with him? The thought gave him a new interest in her. 
He was very kind and tender with his poor sick little wife; 
he sat with her, read to her, and did all in his power to 
amuse her. She was getting much better — well enough to 
sit up — well enough for Mrs. Hamilton to talk of going 
home. Mary was to come in her place. Olive looked very 
young and pretty, and delicate, as she lay on the blue sofa 
near the window of her own sitting-room. It was a great 
trial to her not being able to go out — she yearned after the 
fresh air and the pleasant drives with her husband in the 
pony-carriage. Lady Vibart often came to sit with her, 
and sometimes Mr. Fairfax would ride over for an houFs 
chat. The first time he saw her after her illness she had 
put her thin white hand in his, saying, They tell me I 
should have died, perhaps, if it had not been for you. How 
good you are!" 

And the tears had come into Alan^s eyes at the tender, 
tremulous tones, and he had turned quickly away, with a 
grave, kind pressure of the poor little fingers. 

We could not afford to lose you," he said, presently. 

Olivers was not a nature to bear malice, or to feel re- 


240 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


vengeful, but she absolutely refused to see Mrs. Anson.. 
One day Sir George said to her: 

My darling, I think you ought to let Mrs. Anson como 
in next time she calls. She is quite miserable to think of 
having caused you so much pain — and she really was not to 
blame for what happened. 

‘^^Do not ask me, George exclaimed Olive, in an ex- 
cited tone. I will never see that woman again, if I can 
help it.” 

Mr. Fairfax happened to be present. Reticent as he 
was generally, on this occasion he spoke his thoughts in a 
strong, firm voice. 

Your wife is perfectly right, George. Mrs. Anson was 
not the cause of the mare refusing the leap, but she was 
the cause of Lady Fabian^’s fright and illness by. persuading 
you to what you would not otherwise have done. ” 

Of course I give in, as you both settle it so,” uttered 
Sir George, biting his lip. It seems to me very unfair on 
the poor Little thing.” 

As the hunting season came on. Lady Fabian gradually 
had very much less of her husband^s company. He had 
begun to find nursing very dull work, and was not sorry 
for an excuse to get away from it. After a time it came 
to dining out, and occasionally, if the party was at a dis- 
tance, he would stay the night. Sometimes Olive would 
beseech him to stop with her, and then he would be vexed, 
and say: 

Really, Olive, you are too unreasonable. I am very 
sorry you are ill, and would much rather you could go out 
with me, but I can^t see that because you are obliged to 
stay at home you should wish me to be moped to death.” 

And she would answer with some bitterness: 

If you are tired of me, and my company wearies you, 
go by all means. You did not always think so!” And 
when he was gone out the poor child would throw herself 
back on the pillows, and sob as if her heart would break. 
AVas he tired of her? — did he not care to be with her — or 
were husbands always so different from lovers? She called 
to mind the times when he had never been weary of telling 
her how he loved her — when he had declared there was no 
such happiness as he felt in having her all to himself. Now 
he would say, You have- your sisters. If it will make you 
any happier, have your whole family here, but you do not 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


241 


expect that I can be tied to one room from morning till 
night. Somehow or other he was constantly meeting Mrs. 
Anson, and began to take very great pleasure in her society. 
She was always the same — always had a pleasant smile for 
him, or some little veiled flattery. He saw her most fre- 
quently at the meets; she pde very well by this time, and 
had not the slightest timidity. 

One December afternoon Sir George was riding slowly 
home after a long day with the hounds. He heard the 
sound of hoofs behind him, and turned to see who was 
coming. There was just light enough left for him to 
recognize Mrs. Anson. She drew rein by his side. 

You are out late, Mrs. Anson, he said. 

Yes; I lost my way, and went further than I intended. 
Is that your new hunter 

Yes; how do you like him?^^ 

I can hardly see; I am glad it is not a chestnut. I 
shall nev«’ like chestnuts again, and she shuddered. 

Why?^^ he asked her softly. 

Because, if I live to be a hundred, I shall never forget 
the agony I felt when I saw that horse fall with you,^^ she 
answered quickly. 

Why should you feel so much; it was not your fault 

There was a pause, and then the answer came in a low^ 
tremulous voice. 

Because I am fool enough to care so much for you, 
that if you had been killed, I would have prayed that I 
might die too. 

They had reached the turning where their roads divided, 
and before Sir George had time to. utter a word, Mrs. 
Anson had turned her horse and was cantering up the lane 
that led to the Court. 

He was stupefied. It was terrible, he thought, that this 
woman should care for him, and passing strange that she 
should thus avow it. In future he would avoid her. For 
all that, he was vain enough to feel flattered. But he had 
no occasion to avoid her, for during the next three weeks 
he never once saw her. She did not come to the meet, nor to 
inquire after Lady Fabian, nor was she even at the county 
ball in Lendal, where he had been sure of meeting her. He 
was getting piqued into -curiosity; he wanted to see her 
once more, just to notice how she would behave to him. 


TEOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


24:2 

One day he called at the Court, under pretext of consult- 
ing Mr. Anson about some pheasants. 

You must stay to lunch/^ said his host; my wife will 
be delighted to see you;^' and the baronet consented. But 
Mrs. Anson did -not appear. She sent an excuse. Her head 
ached badly, and she was lying down. Sir George went 
away provoked, but keeping up appearances to himself, by 
declaring how fortunate it was that it should so have hap- 
pened. But as the days went on he became restless and 
dissatisfied, and felt a strange longing to see her. At last 
they met at a dinner-party given by Lady Vibart. But 
here he had.no chance of speaking to her — she just shook 
hands with him, inquired after Lady Fabian, and all the 
rest of the evening studiously avoided him. He was 
piqued, nettled; he began even to wonder to himself if she 
had been sincere, or whether for some unknown motive she 
had wanted to make him fancy she loved him. As time wore 
on she resumed her former pleasant, laughing manner with 
him, which stung him still more. He began to be in love 
with her himself — to put himself out of the way to meet 
her; to feel vexed if she talked to other men. Henrietta 
saw it all with exultant feelings. Strong as her unlawful 
love for him was, she still had tact enough to conceal it for 
her own advantage. Just at this time a very handsome 
young man joined the regiment quartered at Lendal. With 
a fatuity common to very young men, he conceived a des- 
perate attachment for Mrs. Anson, and was always with 
her. She encouraged it, because she saw it piqued Sir 
George; her heart danced with delight when she observed 
the sullen jealous look that overspread his handsome face. 

One day the baronet went to call at Anson Court, and 
met young Eden coming out with a smile beaming on his 
good-looking young face. He went in, and found Mrs. 
Anson alone. 

She gave him her hand. I am so glad to see you,” she 
said. 

^^As glad as you were to see Mr. Eden?” he added, 
sulkily. 

^^What! do you think seriously I care for that boy?” 
said Henrietta, quickly. 

/'I think women are very fickle,” returned Sir George, 
with an angry flush. 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 243 

Do you blame us because we dare not wear our hearts 
upon our sleeve 

I do not presume to blame any one," said Sir George, 
coldly. 

He was standing with his back to the chimney-piece, and 
looking down with some sullenness on the great fur rug. 

Henrietta watched him — something of that great .tender- 
ness in her eyes with which sometimes a mother looks at 
her wayward, handsome child — and yet, despite all the 
deep feeling at work in her breast, she could not keep from 
deceit and lying. The very tremulousness in her voice was 
feigned as she said: 

I do not value the opinion of the world in general very 
greatly, but I do care that you should not misjudge me." 

There was a slight consciousness of pleasure in the mind 
of the listener as she uttered those words, but his voice was 
still cold as he answered : 

What is my good opimon to you?" 

Everything," was the^uick rejoinder. I can deceive 
you and myself no longer. Hear me when I say I love 
you. You may — no doubt you will despise me for saying 
so — it is a fact no less. Will you listen to me while I tell 
you the story of my life?" 

For answer he bent his head. 

I do not even care to have a secret from you," she 
said, with such earnestness that the coldest-blooded man in 
Christendom would not have suspected her sincerity. To 
every one else I seek to make the best of myself — ^to pre- 
tend to a better origin, a more fortunate life than I have 
had. I care too much for you even to feel the wish to de- 
ceive you; I lay my life an open page before you. Think 
of me what you will — at least I trust in your honor to keep 
my secret. 

My father was a gentleman — my mother was a dress- 
maker — I need not go into any particulars of my father^s 
early life, or his fall in the social scale — it is enough to say 
that from my childhood I never knew anything but shab- 
biness and poverty. They sent me to a school at Boulogne, 
where my life was one long, miserable drudgery. While I 
was still there, they died — within a week of each other, and 
I was left friendless, and forlorn, without a home, without 
a hope in the future. Then came the one oasis in my life. 
One of the girls of the school — the grandest pupil there — 


344 FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 

took compassion on me, and asked me to her home. It 
was one of those beautiful old clidtemis — a palace to me 
after the miserable school, and I was happy, ah! how happy! 
The father and the mother were the perfection of well- 
bred French people. There was a son, too, 'handsome and 
clever. In all my life before I had never met a gentleman 
on equal terms, and when this refined man sought my 
society, and spoke words of love and flattery, I felieved 
him — I was not actually in lOve with him, and yet I felt 
bewildered, dazzled, in a kind of heaven of enchantment at 
his praises and soft words. But I went back to school be- 
fore the end of the holidays, and he followed me there. I 
used to meet him down by the sea-side. I only waited 
until the time should come when he would propose openly 
to make me his wife. Well — that time never came — I 
learned at last not to look for it, and I resolved never to 
see him rhore. He. wrote, he implored. To avoid him, I 
sought a situation as compan^i. All my life since has 
been one long drudgery of serving, until I came to Lady 
Vibart — until my husband, wTiom I forever bless and 
thank for his goodness, married me. All his kindness only 
makes me loathe myself the more that I should have a 
thought away from him. How can I help myself she 
burst out, impetuously, ^^All my life has been loveless, 
miserable — now I love with all my heart and soul — and I 
know it wrong and wicked, and I hate myself for it!” 

We set ourselves to tell a story of the lives of men and 
women who have lived, and erred, and suffered; but we 
abstain from chronicling minutely the blind, willful sins of 
those who were not sinned against, but sinning. We must 
perforce bring them in to act their part in our drama; but 
we do not choose to dwell on unlawful love passages, that 
have not even their excuse in the force of a resistless tempta- 
tion. 

From that time Mrs. Anson spared no artifices, no pains 
to entangle and fascinate Sir George, and he rushed blind- 
fold into her net of iidatuation and folly. He was con- 
stantly at Anson Court, lunching, dining, spending some- 
times the mornings, sometimes the afternoons, in riding and 
driving with its mistress. Mr. Fairfax saw it all in despair. 
He knew no way of checking it — he was in daily terror lest 
something should come to Lady Fabian^s ears. After 
long, earnest thought he took a deliberation. It cost him 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


245 


pain and doubt, and repulsion; but lie resolved to go 
through it, at whatever sacrifice of feeling or trouble to 
himself. When his mind was made up he rode over to 
Gabriers Wood. 

I have come to wish you good-bye. Lady Fabian, he 

said. 

You are not going away from us, Mr. Fairfax ex- 
claimed Olive, her face falling. Not for long, atleast.^^^ 

Perhaps only a few days — but it is uncertain. It de- 
pends upon my business. ” 

Business and Olive laughed. ^^What a useful ex- 
cuse that is for all you men! MiSd you come back soon — 
we shall so miss you. 

Thanks. One likes to think that all the world is not 
indifferent to what becomes of one. Good-bye 

Good-bye!” and Olive returned the pressure as warmly 
as if he had been her own brother. She was. growing 
stronger now — able to drive oj^, and even walk a little. A 
few weeks back, when she ha®ain all the weary day upon 
her sofa, she had thought — Ah! when I once go out again, 
and breathe the fresh air, and drive my ponies, I shall not 
feel so miserable and discontented — it is the monotony and 
confinement to the house that prey upon my spirits. ” But 
the poor child did not find herself any happier for her im- 
proved health. Her husband was preoccupied and petulant 
— he made excuses for not accompanying her, after the first 
few times, in her drives, and resented any questions she put 
to him as to where he had been, or how he occupied his 
time. So Olive went about with a great weight at her 
heart, doubting, fearing, suspecting, and yet too proud to 
ask a question, or to spy out her husband^s actions. 


CHAPTER XXX. 

HO QUAKTER. 

Nay — yet it chafes me that I could not bend 
One will; nor tame and tutor with mine eye 
That dull, cold-blooded Caesar. 

A Dream of Fair Women. 

A MONTH went by, and Mr. Fairfax was at home again. 
He had been away at the very time when his presence was 
most required at the Abbey, and had missed his hunting. 


246 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


Moreover, he had been engaged in a work especially pain- 
ful to his honorable, upright nature. The day after his 
return he went to the meet. There he saw quite enough to 
determine him on the immediate putting into execution of 
his plans. Sir George Fabian and Mrs. Anson were on 
horseback a little apart from the rest, conversing in whis- 
pers — his eyes were bent on her face with an expression 
that made Alan hate him for the moment. Lady Fabian 
was there, too, in her pony-carriage, trjdng hard to act upon 
a new-learned worldly wisdom, trying to smile, and talk, and 
seemed unconcerned, bu^ there was a hollow ring in her 
voice, and her smile made the man^s heart ache who 
watched her. He felt an insupportable loathing of the two 
people who caused all this torture to a pure, loving heart. 

To-morrow he muttered to himself, between his 
clinched teeth — to-morrow 

True to his mental promise, he bent his steps the follow- 
ing morning in the direction of Anson Court, taking the 
back way to the house through the w^oods. A little way up 
the path he paused — Mrs. Anson was coming toward him, 
and alone. She came tripping down the path through the 
wood, over the crackling leaves of last year, wrapped in 
dainty velvet and furs, save where, beneath and above, a 
glimpse of scarlet came from the petticoat^s edge, and the 
bright wing of the Ibis in her hat. As she saw Mr. Fair- 
fax she stopped short. 

I was on my way to the Court, he said, raising his hat, 
and speaking in the cool, proud tones she had come to hate 
and fear. 

To see Mr. Anson? He is not at home.'’^ 

No, I wished to see you. 

Henrietta felt a little nervous, but she smiled mockinfflv* 
saying. 

It will be the first time, then, I shall be able to flatter 
myself that your visit is a compliment to me,” and she 
turned to go back. 

I will not give you the trouble of retracing your steps — 
all I have to say can be said as well in these woods as in the 
drawing-room at Anson Court — better, perhaps, for we are 
more secure from intrusion. ” 

You rouse my curiosity,” said Henrietta, lightly; pray 
proceed at once with your important communication. I 
could almost fancy you were about to confide a secret and 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 247 

mysterious love affair to my discreet ears/^ and she glanced 
keenly at him. 

He looked full into her eyes with his sternest glance. 

There is no love in what I am about to speak of/’ he 
answered, curtly. 

Crime perhaps?^' she suggested, with a veiled sneer. 

No, I hope to prevent that,^^ was the cold rejoinder. 

Mrs. Anson bit her lip slightly, and. clinched her small 
hands tight inside her muff. She hated and.feared Alan 
Fairfax — feared him more, perhaps, because she knew of 
no precise cause why he could send that quick thrill of ter- 
ror through her veins. The hardest piece of acting she 
ever practiced was the smile she brought to her unwilling 
eyes now. 

‘^Mr. Fairfax, she said, softly, shall we not be 
friends and he answered, with a sharp ring in his voice: 

Please God, never 

As you will,^^ exclaimed Mrs. Anson, haughtily. Be 
good enough to explain your business with me. '' 

Mr. Fairfax bowed. 

I came to ask you to desist from torturing one of the 
best, purest women God ever made.^^ 

Who is that n/ra avis 9” sneered Henrietta. 

You know as well as I do — Lady Fabian."’^ 

^^Hid she send you to ask me?^^ said Henrietta, inso- 
lently. 

No,” replied Mr. Fairfax, coldly; I came of my own 
will not only to ask you as a favor, but to tell you that you 
must entirely give up Sir George Fabian's society, and avoid 
meeting him either in public or private. " The last words 
were sternly emphasized. 

Aprls 9” cried Henrietta, with a scornful laugh. 

Permit me to tell Lady Fabian's self-constituted cham- 
pion that he is both impertinent and officious, and that I 
decline to hear anything more he has to say," and she 
quickened her pace. 

He laid Ms hand very lightly on her arm. 

Do you suppose," he said, quietly, that I should come 
to you to persuade you to do what was right if I had no 
stronger weapon than my power of persuasion?" 

Do you threaten me, sir?" uttered Mrs. Anson, haugh- 
tily turning upon him. 


248 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


Yes/^ he replied, quietly; I treat you as I would scorn 
to treat most women — I threaten you!^^ 

With what?” she cried, stung to the quick. 

With public disgrace and exposure.” 

Prove that you can!” hissed Mrs. Anson, white to the 

lips. 

That is very simply done. But if you will comply with 
my request there will be no need for it.” 

thought you were speaking from bravado,” she 
sneered. 

You might have known me better,” was the reply, icily 
spoken. Shall I trace your past life from the Boulogne 
boarding-school to the present time?” 

Mrs. Anson^s courage rose in proportion to her danger. 

Certainly — say your worst of a poor, struggling girl 
with her bread to win, without parents and without friends. 

“ There are honest ways of winning bread in France as 
well as in England, madame. ” 

And will you dare to say that mine was gained other- 
wise? If you know everything,’ you know that my aunt 
turned me adrift; that I was in an English boarding-house 
in Paris; that I became governess in the family of a stock- 
broke who failed — that — ” 

Pardon me, those are not the episodes into which I 
have taken the trouble to inquire. ” 

Be good enough to tell me what your perspicacity has 
discovered. ” 

That you lived m Paris as M. de Gamier ’s mistress; 
that when he left you,' you became God knows what — and 
that when your good looks failed you, you took once more 
to a respectable. mode of life.” 

^ • May I ask your authority for this absurd tissue of lies?” 

I have been at the Hotel St. Honore, and I have seen 
Madame Talons. Will you be content with written proofs?” 

Mrs. Anson was completely cowed. A deadly fear took 
possession of her heart, but her presence of mind did not 
yet forsake her. With quick tact she accepted the situation. 
She raised her eyes beseechingly to his face. 

^^Mr. Fairfax, I deny nothing. I am at your mercy. 
You are a man, and you are generous. Do not be too harsh 
with me. Think how hard my life has been, and do not 
judge me by the standard of women whose lives have been 
fair and easy, because they have never known temptation. 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


249 


Think how friendless I was — think of the miserable drudg- 
ery, the hopelessness of my weary existence in that foreign 
school, with no mother to influence me for good — no one 
living soul to care what became of me. I met De Gamier 
— -I loved him — he opened paradise before my eyes, and 
will you cast the first stone at me because, with no one to 
guide me right, I chose the broad path?” 

Such an appeal from most women would have gone 
straight to Alan Fairfaxes generous heart; it stirred some 
slight emotion of pity, even for the one who stood beside 
him. 

I have nothing to say to your past life,” he said, a 
shade more kindly; God forbid that I should judge any 
one hardly! I have only to do with the present. By your 
intrigues, your artifices (call it what name you will), you 
have raised yourself to a position you could never have 
hoped for— you have wealth, station, and the love and con- 
fidence of a gentleman. You receive sufficient attention 
and adulation to satisfy the cravings of your vanity — you 
are not tempted to sin now. If you try to win the heaif of 
a man who is married, and torture a good, pure, loving 
woman, you are branding yourself with infamy — your heart 
is corroded with black vice and wickedness. I have no 
concern with your past — for me it may still be a fair page 
to the world, unless you persist in your present folly and 
wickedness. 

Henrietta looked suddenly in his face^with an expression 
of cunning. 

You should be the last to try and stop me. You have 
more to gain than most people by my success. You think 
your secret is safe in your own breast, but I have fathomed 
it long ago."’ ^ 

For one moment Alan experienced a desire to strangle 
the woman who had dared say this thing to him. A look of 
great loathing came into his eyes, and she winced under it. 
He stopped short suddenly — I have nothing more to say 
to you — only remember.” 

She turned to him in fury. 

^‘1 will remember!” she cried, gasping with passion — 

I will remember that you are a spy and a coward, who 
loves to threaten defenseless women! I will remember 
you — to hate you!” 

But he was striding away through the crackling leaves. 


250 


FEOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


and she was alone with her impotent rage. With the fe- 
line instinct of destructiveness in her desire for revenge, 
she tore her lace handkerchief into shreds, and stamped on 
the hard ground until she hurt her feet. Very rarely in 
her life had she given way to passion — when she did, she 
seemed to lose every vestige of control over herself. 

All the afternoon she sat alone, thinking, looking for 
some way ' out of the toils. Mr. Fairfax was not a man to 
threaten in vain, or to he diverted from a purpose— she 
could not cozen or deceive him; she must give up Sir 
George, or he would carry out his threat to the letter. And 
that she would not do. Henrietta paced up and down 
like a fury. For once in her life, tact, self-interest, the 
thought of her own advancement, were as nothing to her. 
A kind of madness comes over most people at some time in 
their lives, and woe to those who have neither religion nor 
high principle to guide them! Mrs. Anson set her face 
against all sense of right, all virtue, all morality. She 
did not even care or consider that she was about to topple 
down the fair fabric raised after the toil of years. That 
blindness to the future, that deafness to all reasoning was 
upon her, which comes to those who give the bridle to 
wrong thoughts and feelings. Religion can not be warped 
and turned, but reason can and will, under the influence of 
passion. What shall be said of the infatuation that had 
come over Sir George Fabian? What excuse can be offered 
for the man who could turn his back upon a pure, fresh 
love, and And an ^1-engrossing charm in the company of 
a woman who, as far as moral truth and virtue went, was 
steeped m falseness and degradation? None! We relate 
facts; we can not explain them, even to ourselves. Only 
a sad experience shows us how every day and every year 
men and women, with hearts and minds, throw away the 
substance for the shadow. We hear the excuse constantly 
— nay, we give it ourselves — that temptation was too strong 
for us; we could not stand against it. That is false. It is 
hard to resist — bitterly, agonizingly hard, but it is not 
impossible. Let no man think in his heart he sinned from 
compulsion. He could have resisted.. It may be that the 
bias of the human heart is toward evil, but we can choose 
the right if we will. Men may urge qitick passions, sensi- 
tive natures, excitable temperaments, as an excuse for sins 
of heart and temper; but they know well enough that the 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


251 


-difficult is not the impossible. Ah! if they applied a tenth 
part of the energy and resolution inwardly that they never 
begrudge to a worldly difficulty or ambition, how glorious 
would be the result ! But unhappily that is the only thing 
that seems to them not worth the trouble. 

Sir George Fabian was beguiled and infatuated by a de- 
signing woman, because he never made one sincere effort 
to tear himself from her toils. 

The evening of the day on which M!*. Fairfax had sought 
her, there was an amateur performance at the theater in 
Lendal. Every one was there — Mr. and Mrs. Anson in- 
cluded. Sir George Fabian came to speak to Henrietta be- 
tween the acts. 

Go away,” she whispered to him. “ I can not explain 
to you now. Meet me to-morrow at half past four in the 
woods,” and wondering, yet not caring to ask more ques- 
tions then, he went. 

She made her own story to him. Mr. Anson was getting 
jealous. Some one had sent him an anonymous letter. 
He did not suspect her; hut he would not allow occasion 
for a scandal, and whenever Sir George Fabian was to be- 
in future there, she must abstain from going. 

Good-bye,” she said with tears in her eyes. must 
never see you again. ” 

But Sir George swore with a vehement oath that it should 
not be good-bye. He was one of those men in whom the 
inherent principle of setting most value on what he could 
not get was strongest. When, during the next few days, 
he saw nothing of Mrs. Anson, and neither met nor heard 
of her, he worked himself into a perfect frenzy. He im- 
agined that he adored her — that he could not live without 
her — he grew haggard, restless and ill. 

Alas for all human foresight! When, seventeen months 
before. Sir George Fabian and Olive Hamilton had stood 
together at the altar in the old country church — a fair 
young couple, with all God^s best gifts showered upon them 
— beauty, love, rank, and wealth — admired and envied by 
every one who looked at them — who could tell that in so short 
a time their hearts would be tortured with disunion, and 
both their young lives blighted — one with sinning, the other 
with being sinned against? 


252 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


OHAPTEE XXXL 

IH THE DEEP WATERS. 

0 God, I am so young, so young, 

1 am not jised to tears at night 

Instead of slumber — not to prayer 

With sobbing lips and hands outwrun^ 

Elizabeth Babrett Browning. 

Oke morning Olive rose as usual, dressed, and went 
down-stairs to breakfast. She was alone, her sister was 
gone home, and Sir George had dined out the night before. 

I dare say I shall sleep at Le Rochet's, if they ask me,"’*’ 
he had said, as he wished her good-bye, and Olive had ac- 
quiesced with a patient sigh. 

She went in to breakfast, feeling rather better than usual; 
it was a bright morning, full of sunshine — ^the fire blazed, 
and the urn hissed cheerily on the table. She caressed her 
dog and cat, which ran to meet her, and then looked beside 
her plate for letters. There were three, by the post, and 
one unstamped. She took it up hastily as she recognized 
her husband^s handwriting. 

suppose he is not coming home this morning, she 
said to herself as she opened it. Suddenly a blanched look 
came into her face, and she_gasped for breath. A sensation 
passed over her, as though every limb was stiffening and 
turning cold until a numbness covered all her frame. Her 
mouth was half open, her eyes stared blankly through the 
window. At last, with a violent effort, she moved, and 
read the letter through once more : 

AVhen you get this I shall be a long way off. Try and 
forget me, and do not attempt to have me followed, I be- 
lieve I am mad ! I dare not ask you to forgive me in the 
face of such a wrong. ” 

Olive put her hand to her head, and sunk into the chair 
that stood ready for her. But in a moment she started up and 
rang the bell. Her face was quite calm when the servant 
entered. 

^ Tell Wood to take the fastest horse in the stable, and 
ride over and ask Mr. Fairfax to come to me at once. At 
once -she repeated. 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


253 


Yes, my lady.^^ And five minutes after she heard 
the sound of a horse galloping down the avenue. The man 
to whom Olive gave the order went to Greet and told her 
he thought something was wrong. My lady looked so 
strange, and she had sent off for Mr. Fairfax to come that 
moment. Greet ran up stairs breathlessly. 

Is anything the matter, my lady?” 

No, Greet,” said Olive, in a strange, hollow voice. 

0 Miss Olive! my darling!” cried the old woman, 
frightened at her ghastly face, and going up to her, what 
is it?” 

A strange, convulsive sob rose in Olivers throat. She 
checked it with a violent effort: 

0 Greet, go away. DonT come to me now. Wait 
until Mr. Fairfax has been. Go — do go — donT let the 
servants know anything. Say — say it is business!” And 
she pushed Greet from her with trembling hands, and an- 
other great gasping sob. 

Her old nurse, terrified as she was, dared not disobey. 
She went out of the room, but kept pacing up and down 
the hall, stopping every now and then to hsten. 

Olive never stirred from the arm-chair on which she 
sunk. She only raised her eyes to the dock now and then 
to see how the minutes crept by, or strained her ear for 
the sound of hoofs. She was too stupefied to think of any- 
thing beyond reckoning the time it would take Mr. Fairfax 
to obey her summons. He would come at once — she knew 
that. In thirty-five minutes it was possible for him to be 
with her.* But before the hand of the dial showed the half 
hour, she heard the gallop of a horse, and immediately 
after Alan Fairfax entered the room unannounced. He 
was in his scarlet coat; he had been giving a hunting- 
breakfast that morning, but he never waited one moment 
after Lady Fabian's message came. Olive sprung to meet 
him — her hand was on his arm, and she was looking with 
imploring e;^s in his face. He turned sick at the sight of 
her blanched, agonized face. 

Do you know anything? Where is he?” 

Mr. Fairfax drew her gently to the sofa. 

^^I know nothing. Tell me what has happened.” 

She thrust the letter into his hand, and watched him with 
eager eyes while he read. It dropped from his hands, and 
he turned to her with a great sigh, and eyes wet with tears. 


‘254 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


Oh, my poor child, God help you!^^ he uttered in a low, 
trembling voice. 

Oh, Mr. Fairfax, why did he go? Does he hate me so?^^ 

Her hands were both pressing on his arm, and she was 
looking with wild, earnest eyes into his. 

He must be mad! It is some wicked infatuation.^^ 

Oh, Alan,^’ she gasped, you do not think he has gone 
with her?^^ 

Mr. Fairfax was at his wits^ end to know what he should 
say to the poor suffering child. 

I do not know what to think. Nothing else but her 
machinations could have made him such a villain. 

^^Oh! hush — don^t say that: Will you go after them, 
and bring him back? I shall die if he does not come to 
me. Oh, Mr. Fairfax, if he knows it will kill me, he won’t 
stay away any longer! Will you go now at once and bring 
him home? Tell him I will never vex him any more, ’’she 
cried, with a great sob; ^^only ask him to forgive me this 
once. ” 

Alan’s chest heaved. Strong, stern man though he was, 
he could have laid his head down and cried to see the white, 
agonized face, and to hear the tones of piteous entreaty. 
If Olive had been his own sister, he would have told her it 
was impossible that she should send after the man who had 
so basely and cruelly wronged her, but the love he had for 
her sealed his lips. 

Oh, Mr. Fairfax, won’t you go at once?” she cried 
again, rising and taking him by the arm. 

Yes,” he said, very gently. I will go; but you must 
listen to me first, quite quietly, will you?” 

Yes, yes; tell me at once,” she said, twisting his hand 
unconsciously in her impatient grasp. 

I must get a clew to where he has gone. No doubt it 
is first to London. If I find, on inquiring at the station, 
that my surmise is correct, I will follow by the twelve 
o’clock train. , I will leave no stone unturned to bring him 
back with me. ” 

You promise that?” cried Olive, convulsively. 

^^I promise, so help me God! And now, in the mean- 
time, you must keep quiet. If you do not, the servants 
will suspect something, and perhaps, after all, we may be 
"ible to hush it up. I will telegraph to you every time I 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 255 

get a clew; but, remember, it may be days before I can do 
anything. Shall I send for your mother?” 

No, no!” cried Olive, and then, with a sudden impulse 
of her great anguish, she laid her head on Alan^s shoulder 
and sobbed piteously. 

With an aching heart he put his arm round the slight 
quivering form. 

I must go now,” he whispered, his voice all unsteady 
with emotion. Trust me. All that your own father 
could do for you I will do. ” 

He laid her gently down on the sofa and went out of the 
door. On the threshold Greet stopped him: 

Oh, Mr. Fairfax, what is it?” 

Come here,” he answered, drawing her into the library 
and shutting the door. Try to keep your mistress up. 
Sir George has gone away and left her. Impress upon her 
that no one must suspect the truth. I will do all that man 
can do to bring him back; but I have little hope.” And 
he was away out of the door and on his horse galloping 
home. 

Fortunately the hunting-party had started. He ordered 
the mare to be put in the stanhope, and went upstairs to 
change his clothes. 

Pack me a few things I canT do without,” Horton, he 
said to his man. 

Yes, sir; am I to go with you?” 

No; if I want you I will send. There are only five 
minutes to spare.” 

When Mr. Fairfax reached the station at Lendal, he went 
at once to the station-master. 

Sir George Fabian went up to town last night?” he said, 
interrogatively. 

No, sir — by the six oYlock train this morning — I was 
quite surprised to see him — he donT often go so early. ” 

Alone, I suppose?” asked Alan, carelessly. 

Yes, sir; I remarked to Sir George that he^d have a dull 
journey. But he had company after all, for just as the 
train was up, a lady got into the carriage. I donT fancy it 
was any one from these parts; but I couldnT see, for she 
had a black veil tied over her face. ” 

The train came up at this moment, and Mr. Fairfax 
jumped in. He drew his hat over his eyes and tried to 


256 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


think. His mind was torn with conflicting emotions. The 
hatred of Cam was in his heart to the man and woman who 
had caused this terrible suffering to a gentle heart; and yet 
he felt the absolute necessity of controlling and conquering 
his feelings brfore he came in contact with one at least of 
them. He had but one thought, but one idea — he must 
bring Olivers husband back to her; he could not see that 
white, terrified face, or read a Yain appeal in the poor hol- 
low eyes or quivering mouth. There was not one -thought 
for himself, for any future advantage that might come to 
him out of this present misery — only the intense desire of 
saving that poor, anguish-stricken child from further tort- 
ure. It was long years since this man of the world had 
prayed — to-day, in the railway-carriage, his eyes closed, his 
brows bent, his heart sent up the deepest, the most fervent 
prayers man ever utttered in his need. At times a mad- 
dening self-reproach crossed his brain. Had his interfer- 
ence been the cause of this crisis? Had fear precipitated 
this evil-hearted woman to her last terrible determination? 
As the train drew near London, he racked his brain to think 
how he should set about tracking them. There was a con- 
viction in his mind that they were gone, or would go to 
Paris; but unless his suspicion was reduced to a certainty, 
he dared not act upon it. A sudden inspiration dawned 
upon him. He would go first to Sir George^s banker, in 
the city, and find out when he had drawn the last check, 
and if he was likely to have much money in his possession. 
It was his own bank, too, and he knew the manager. He 
was ushered at once into the private room. 

I want to ask you one or two questions in confidence, 
Mr. Johnson, he said, scarcely waiting for the convention- 
al salutation, in the strictest confidence. 

Certainly, said the manager, gravely, looking at him 
with much surprise. It occurred to the business man to 
wonder whether Mr. Fairfax was demented, or if he had 
just gambled away his estate. 

Has Sir George Fabian drawn upon you for any large 
sum of money lately?’^ asked Alan. 

He was here not five hours ago,^^ answered Mr. John- 
son, more and more surprised. Of course, it is not usual 
to mention one client^s affairs to another, but you are such 
intimate friends. 

Yes, yes,^^ assented Alan, hastily. 


FEOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


257 


Sir George took two hundred pounds in circular notes; 
he said he had to go abroad unexpectedly on business. 

Mr. Fairfax heaved a sigh of relief. 

Did he say where 

No^ he seemed in a violent hurry — wanted to catch the 
boat — and Lady Fabian was waiting outside in the cab, I 
think, for I caught sight of a lady through the glass door. 

“ I am just off to Paris myself,'" said Alan; "'of course, 
I rely on your not taking any subsequent notice of my 
question. Let me have fifty pounds in notes at once, please, 
for I have no time to spare. " 

And he walked out of the bank, leaving Mr. Johnson in 
a state of the most extreme perplexity. He jumped into 
the hansom, and drove to the railway. There was a train 
for Dover in half an hour, and the mail-boat would leave 
at twelve for Calais. The next morning he was in Paris. 
He drove to an hotel, made some change in his dress, drank 
a cup of coffee, and went out again. There was a hunted 
look in his eyes, such as a terrible uncertainty brings into 
the face of the strongest man, after four-and-twenty sleep- 
less hours of suspense. On the hotel steps he met a friend. 

" Good Heavens, Fairfax! how ill you look! What have 
you been doing with yourself?" exclaimed the latter. 

" I am all right," said Alan, impatiently; "nothing ails 
me but a long journey and no sleep." 

" Come and breakfast 'with me in the Palais Royal — " 

"No, thank you, I have some business just now. I will 
see you again. " 

And with this hurried excuse Mr. Fairfax turned away, 
and passed out into the Boulevards. He went round first 
to all the principal hotels to make inquiries, describing 
minutely the appearance of the people he was in quest of, 
but got no satisfactory answer. Oh! yes, there were a 
great many tall, fair, handsome gentlemen, with short 
ladies: but none proved to be the,, ones the questioner 
sought. He took an open fl}^ and drove about the streets, 
and at last, in des^Dair, returned to his hotel just as it was 
getting dark. He had eaten nothing all day. As he walk- 
ed along the corridor to the bureau, he suddenly came face 
to face with Sir George Fabian. 

Both the men turned ghastly white, and the blood seem- 
ed to ebb away from their hearts. For a moment Alan 


258 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


felt a great fury arise within him, and then mastered him- 
self, and put his hand through the baronet's arm. 

Come with me," he said, and Sir George made no re- 
sistance, but mounted slowly with him to the sitting-room 
on the second floor. 

With an iron self-command, Mr. Fairfax resisted the? 
impulse to hurl his bitter anger and reproach at the man 
who had been his friend, and said quietly and simply: 

For God's sake, George, come back to your wife before 
it is too late. " 

• It is too late already," said Sir George, harshly. 

It is not — I left her yesterday morning — her poor white 
face blanched with agony — and all she could say was, 

^ Only bring him back!' George! if you are a man, and not 
a devil, you will come back with me to her now at once. 
She will die if you do not. Do you want to kill her?" 

Sir George made an impatient gesture. 

What is the use of talking like this? What is done 
can not be undone. How can you talk to me of going 
home, when by this time everything is known in the place?" 

Then let me go and bring her to you. " 

^^Are you mad, Alan," oi’ied Sir George, ^^that you 
come on tliis fool's errand? What am I to do with the 
woman who has given up husband, home, reputation — 
everything for me? Am I to be blackguard enough to 
leave her to shift for herself, and go home like a wlhpped 
school-boy, and say, ‘^I'm sorry'?" 

George!" cried Mr. Fairfax, with bitter earnestness, 
you are not in your right senses. Can you talk about 
honor and not being a blackguard when you are breaking 
the heart of a pure, loving woman, and committing the 
foulest wrong the devil ever tempted a man with, for the 
sake of a common adventuress?" ; 

Sir George turned furiously upon him. 

How dare you say that? By — , if another man had 
uttered it, I would have struck him to the earth. If you 
do not retract — " and the two men stood glaring upon each i. 
other with fury in their eyes and hearts. '• 

Mr. Fairfax recovered himself the first. / 

Let us have no more hard words than we can help,'-' | 
he said quietly. I will prove to you the truth of what I X 
say; I will make it as plain to you as the noonday, that you 
are but the deluded dupe of a vile woman. My boy," and | 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


259 


angry as he was at heart, he laid a kind hand on the young 
man^s arm, happiness and misery are before you at this 
moment to choose from. All your future life depends on 
your decision this day. George, you know I am your friend, 
and want to Counsel you right. The work of the last two 
days is sad enough, but you may get over it if you stop now 
while there is time. If you could only have seen that poor 
child^s piteous face, and her poor little frame heaving with 
sobs as I saw her yesterday, and heard her cry, ' Ask him 
to forgive me — tell him I shall die if he does not come 
back V — unless you had a stone for a heart, you would never 
refuse to go back with me now. Think how ill she has 
been — think of all she has suffered ; remember how she 
worships you, and, for God^’s sake! have some mercy, 
Oompensate this woman as you please — give her half your 
income if you like, but donT brand yourself with the infamy 
of breaking your wife's heart — donT, with the rest of your 
sin, have her death lying at your door. " 

Sir Georges’s face was white as he listened to Alan^s 
words, delivered as they were with almost more than human 
power of entreaty. 

DonT say any more, Alan,"’^ he uttered in a low voice; 
^^it^s too late, I tell you. If I went back it would be no 
use now. I should only be breaking two women^s hearts 
instead of one.” 

If I prove to you that this woman is vile and degraded, 
you will come with me then?” 

‘^^If you prove it to me, I will never see her again. I 
know everything, and you have been misled.” 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

THE AVENGING NEMESIS. 

I gave up all for thee; myself, my fame, 

My hopes of fortune, ay, my very soul! 

Byron. 

The room was quite dark now — the two men could barely 
see each other^s faces. Mr. Fairfax leaned against the marble 
chimney-piece; Sir George Fabian sat on the couch, his 
arms resting on the table. 

I might ha3^e told you all this weeks ago. Would to 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


^^60 

God I had!^^ began Alan, in a grave, stern tone. But I 
wanted to spare the woman, bad as she was.'’^ 

Sir George moved impatiently. 

Come to the proofs, if you have them. 

And then Mr. Fairfax, still in the same calm, even tones, 
repeated to his writhing listener every word of Mrs. Anson^s 
history that he had taken so much pains to learn. He 
spared neither detail nor proof, and when he came to the 
end of the recital. Sir George Fabian laid his head on his 
arm and groaned. 

Will you come with me now?” asked Alan, gently, 
after a long pause. 

The other started to his feet, crying passionately: 

^^No! no! — a thousand times no! What! go back to be 
laughed at for a fool and a dupe! to have the very servants 
whispering about me, and to be cut dead, or gibed at by 
every man in the county!” 

The man^s self-love came out pre-eminent in his hour of 
remorse. 

‘ • You need not go there yet, until it is forgotten. The 
greatest scandals blow over in time. Only go to your wife, 
or let her come to you. ” 

Say no more,” cried Sir George, imperatively. I 
dare say you mean well. I have been mad — a fool, a black- 
guard, what you will; but my fate is sealed. I have counted 
the cost, and I stand to it.-’^ 

You will not, surely, stop with that woman?” 

The baronet laughed bitterly. 

Hardly, if what you say be true. But I will hear it 
from her own lips first. ” 

Go, then, and I will wait for you here.” 

Sir George went out. He reeled along the corridor al- 
most like a drunken man, and staggered down the steps to 
a room on the first floor. It was brilliantly lighted, and 
Mrs. Anson sat over the fire with a book in her hand. She 
smiled as he entered, and then, as she saw the expression 
of his face, she started up with an exclamation of terror. 

What is the matter?” 

He went up to the table and stood by it. She laid* her 
hand upon his arm, but he shook it off. His eyes were 
fixed upon her with a terrible look. I have come to say 
good-bye to Monsieur de Garnier^s mistress..” 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


261 


She staggered back a step or two, ghastly white through 
her pain — ^the blow was so unexpected. 

What do you mean?” she cried, faintly, at last. 

I mean this,” he uttered, furiously — that I have been 
the dupe of your lies, that you have blasted my life, and 
that I curse you for it!” 

And he poured forth to her burning ears the string of 
evidence that Mr. Fairfax had given him. She never moved, 
but stood trembling in every limb — only one thought tak- 
ing possession of her — she was going to lose him ! 

You have been told a tissue of lies,” she gasped, at 

last. 

Very well — come and prove it!” and he grasped her 
arm. She uttered a faint cry of pain. 

^^To whom?” 

To Mr. Fairfax. ” 

She shuddered. 

I will not see him. He hates me. He always hated 
me; but I will prove all you like to you alone. Only hear 
me!” and she drew a step nearer to him. 

Swear by"’"’ {and he named an oath too terrible to be 
recorded here) ^‘that you never lived in Paris with the 
Viscount de Gamier. ” 

She shrunk away from him in silence. Hardened as she 
was, she did not dare swear falsely on such an oath. 

He took all the money he had, and threw it down on the 
table. 

There!” he said — ^^take that — and my banker shall 
send you more when it is gone. Only never attempt to see 
me again as long as we both live. ” 

And he turned to go. With a great cry she sprung after 
him. 

^^Don'^t touch me!” he cried. I shall remember you . 
well enough all the life that you have spoiled — to loathe and 
detest you.” 

She threw herself at his feet. 

Have pity on me!” 

As much pity as you had upon my wife!” 

Henrietta started to her feet. 

You are going to her?” 

Do you think I owe her no amends?” 

A bitter sneer came over her face. There was one last 
refuge in her despair. 


263 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


^SShall I tell you the best amends you can make her? 
Let her have a divorce, and marry Mr. Fairfax. 

Sir George turned very white. 

Do you think, after all I know of you, I would believe 
you now? If your. words were not a lie, would he have 
traveled day and night to get me back to her?^^ 

She knew she could not keep him now, but she might 
hinder him from going to Olive. 

He is more clever than you; he knows how to keep up 
appearances. Do you think he believes you fool enough to 
go back, to have every finger pointed at you — to be subject 
all your life to your wife^s reproaches and recriminations? 
I tell you Mr. Fairfax worships the very ground your wife 
walks on, and he will marry her if you will only let him. 

A bitter curse issued from the baronet's white lips as he 
flung her heavily from him. He ran panting up the stairs 
into the room where Alan waited for him. It was lighted 
now. Sir George came up close to him. 

‘^^And so, you double-faced fiend! — you cowardly 
hypocrite ! — you love my wife yourself. 

He was beside himself, not knowing what he said. Mr. 
Fairfax laid a grip of iron upon his arm. 

“ Listen to me!” he said in a stern, hard voice. I love 
your wife from my soul — like a dear sister — I would lay 
down my life for her — it is that love that brought me here 
— and keeps me here now to listen to your vile insults. 
Come with me now, or meet me to-morrow when you have 
had time to think. ” 

‘^I will never return again,” Sir George swore with a 
bitter oath. She may have a divorce if she likeS; Theyfil 
hardly trump up a story of cruelty; but they can prove 
desertion, for I will never go back.” 

From his very soul Alan despised the nature of the man 
who could utter such heartless words — who could selfishly 
allow a pure, tender heart to be wrung sooner than inflict a 
wound on his own self-love.' Hb turned angrily to go, and 
then, with a great effort of a noble mind, he commanded 
himself, and came back. 

George,” he said, kindly, ""you will think better of 
this. Trust me. I will do for you what a brother might. 
There need be no separation, no desertion, no divorce 
Your wife will be so thankful to have you once more, I 
dare answer no reproach will cross her lips, and if can 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


263 


forget and forgive, who else shall presume to cast a stone? 
Oh, George, he continued passionately — don^t go from 
bad to worse — don^t wreck all your life and hers. If you 
have a doubt of my truth or honesty — I would rather take 
a vow never to see you or her again, sooner than you should 
be tempted to break her heart for a foolish and unjust sus- 
picion. Do not decide to-night — take a day — a week if you 
will — only, for God’s sake, tear the scales from your eyes, 
and see the truth!” 

Bitter and angry as he was. Sir George could not fail to 
recognize the generosity of that great mind, but its contrast 
to his own weakness and dishonor stimg him to the quick. 

^^We only waste words,” he said, after a petulant pause. 

I shall never change my mind.” 

Mr. Fairfax saw that further argument was useless. 

can say no more,” he uttered with a heavy sigh; 

only I implore you, do nothing rashly. Will you write 
to me in a day or two?” 

Yes, I will write.” 

Good-bye,” and Alan held out his hand. The baron- 
et just touched it with a nerveless grasp. 

Mr. Fairfax went out. His heart was heavy — he had a 
painful consciousness of not having succeeded. He went 
to the telegraph-office and sent off the following message 
to Olive: 

He is not with her. There is a gleam of hope. I will 
be with you to-morrow night. ” 

He had made up his mind that it would be no use to 
stay in Paris — his presence seemed only to irritate Sir 
George, and he had no fear that he would return to Mrs. 
Anson. After dining hastily, he drove to the railway, and 
started for London. This time nature was exhausted — he 
slept heavily the whole way. The persistent guard en- 
deavored to rouse him for his ticket. Fortunately there 
was a good-natured Frenchman in the carriage. 

Leave him — leave him,” he said: see how he sleeps! 
Hot like a man who wants to avoid you — and, morblen! 
you have already once seen his ticket. ” 

When they arrived at Boulogne, Alan’s traveling com- 
panion roused him with some difficulty. 

^^Wake! — wake!” he cried. Mon Dieu! how these. 
Englishmen carry their obstinacy even into their sleep!” 


204 ' FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 

Mr. Fairfax continued to sleep whenever it was practi- 
cable, until he neared London. Then he roused himself 
with a great sense of weariness. His first thought was to 
see Olive's father. After a hurried change of clothes and a 
cup of strong coffee, Alan went to Mr. Hamilton's cham- 
bers in the Temple. He had not yet arrived, the clerk said, 
but would be there in twenty minutes. Alan thought the 
time would never pass; his head was throbbing desperately, 
and a terrible task lay before him. Mr. Hamilton could 
not have heard the news, or he would surely be with his 
daughter. 

The lawyer came in presently, with a smii^, and a cor- 
dial, outstretched hand. But his face grew grave in a mo- 
ment as he saw the expression in his visitor's eyes. 

What is the matter, Mr. Fairfax? You have some bad 
news!" 

Mr. Fairfax grasped his hand, and there was a shade of 
tremulous hesitation in the usually strong voice. 

I have. But please God, there is some hope." 

My daughter!" cried Mr. Hamilton, with a strange 
white face. 

She is well^ — quite well; and— and Sir George too. It 
is no bodily ailment. " 

Say the worst at once!" cried Mr. Hamilton. 

Sir George has left her." 

Good God, sir! what do you mean?" 

Mr. Fairfax told the whole story, sparing his hearer all 
the pain he could — sparing his former friend, too, as far as 
possible. 

The lawyer was very pale, but said not .one word until 
all was told. Then he murmured, in a half-choked 
voice : 

Oh, my poor child! I will go down and fetch her 
home. " 

^^Not to-day — not yet," urged Alan. ^^That would 
make her feel as if she had no hope. " 

Do you suppose I Mull ever let that — that damned vil- 
lain see her again?" 

If you try to prevent it you Mull break her heart. I 
do not want to screen him, but for her sake you must do 
nothing rash. If he will return to her, it would be worse 
than wrong to prevent it. Her whole life is bound up in 
him. You must believe I have her interest at heart." 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


265 


God bless yon, I dof^ and Mr. Hamilton wrung Alan^s 
hand. But I must go to her. What time does the train 
start?” 

At twelve. But you must let me see her first. She 
has my faithful promise, and I must tell her what I have 
done. I implore you to do nothing hastily until I hear 
from Sir George.'” And after a long time Mr. Hamilton 
consented. 

It was dark, and lights were burning in the dining-room 
at GabrieFs Wood when the carriage drove up. Mr. Hamil- 
ton did not get out for a moment, until Mr. Fairfax had 
entered the dining-room and shut the door. Olive sprung 
to meet him. 

Oh, Mr. Fairfax, tell me quickly — is he come?” 

He had expected to see her looking ill, but he was hardly 
prepared for the ghastly face that met his glance. The 
eyes looked enormous — encircled with great hollow rings; 
there was a feverish restlessness, as though they had never 
closed since he last saw them, and she trembled all over. 

Come, and let me tell you everything.” He sat down 
beside her, taking both her hands in his, with no feeling 
but one great, heart-aching pity. 1 saw him and told 
him what she was, and how you were ready to forgive him 
all, if he came back. ” 

^^But it was all my fault — you should have said I 
wanted to be forgiven,” she broke in, with feverish earnest- 
ness. 

He has left her; he is awake from his blindness, and 
knows how vile she is!” 

Ah! thank God!” and the great tears came into Olivers 
eyes. Then he will come back at once — at once!” 

Not at once,” said Alan, gently; but in time, I hope. 
He will hot come here — perhaps you may go to him.” 

She sprung up. 

Oh! let me go now! Take me, Mr. Fairfax! — do take 
me! — ^wonT you?” 

He drew her back. 

You must not be too hopeful,” he uttered, with a tone 
of pain; he has not promised.” 

Not promised to come back to me! Oh, Mr. Fairfax!” 

I dare not tell you anything but the truth. Wait 
patiently just a day or two. He has promised to write to 
me. ” 


266 


FEOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


Her eyes stared at him blankly and piteously for a mo- 
ment, and then she broke out : 

How cruel you are! and I trusted you so. If you had 
told him it would break my heart, if you liad told him how 
I loved him, he would have come to me at once, I know it. 
And you talk of waiting — of course it is nothing to you; 
and these two days and nights I have never slept or eaten, 
and have been tortured with fears, and you tell me to go 
on waiting patiently. Oh! what shall I do?'^ and she threw 
herself down on the floor and sobbed, until Alan thought 
to have gone mad with pain. 

have done all I could, he uttered, in a low voice. 

Your father is here.^^ 

Papa! papa! — oh! let me see him at once. He will be 
able to help me!^^ 

A great pain came into Alan^s heart at the bitter though 
unconscious injustice of the suffering girl. But he forgave 
her from his soul, with a tenderness that was almost divine. 
He opened the door and went out, and Mr. Hamilton 
Clime in. ♦ 

Olive! — my little Olive !^^ and -with one great sob she 
was in her father^s arms, her head on his breast. The 
bitter, anguished tears of a strong man, passionate and 
blinding, rained down upon her; it was forty years since 
John Hamilton had shed a tear. 

Oh, papa, papa, you will bring him back?” 

How could he refuse anything to that great agony? — how 
say the words he had conned to himself all the way down 
in the train? He only pressed her nearer to his he^art with the 
divine, shielding instinct of a father^s love; he could not 
si^eak for the great knot that rose in his throat. 

Papa, do speak to me! — ^tell me you will go to him!” 

My child, I will do all I can; but no one can do more 
than Mr. Fairfax has done for you. I Will not see that — I 
could not meet Sir George myself.” 

Oh, papa, donT blame him too much! I have been ill, 
you know, and I think it has made me petulant and cross. 
It was partly my fault. Ah! if he does not come back, 
what shall I do?” and her sobs were piteous. 

Mr. Hamilton's heart was wrung. 

‘^Oh, God! child,” he cried, hoarsely, ^^donT cry like 
this — youfll break my heart!” 

Olive made one intense effort, and checked her sobs. 


FEOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


267 


I shall be better presently, papa.^^ 

He stood racking his brairs to think how he could com- 
fort her. If he could only divert her thoughts. Suddenly 
an idea struck him. 

I have had no dinner, Olive. 

She rose quickly. 

How selfish I am!^^ and she rang the bell. 

Greet came in answer. 

Some dinner for papa. Greet, at once, please. And 
when it came, she made a pretense of eating with him. 

Ah! what a sad meal it was to the father and daughter, 
who had never sat down alone together since that evening 
of supreme happiness when Sir George had asked her to be 
his wife. 

Olive remembered it with a choking sob as she put down 
the wine she could not drink, and the blinding tears rained 
down from her poor weary eyes. 


CHAPTEE XXXHI. 

O aching time! O moments big as years! 

All, as ye pass, swell out the monstrous truth 
And press it so upon our weary griefs 
That unbelief has not a space to breathe. 

Keats. 

At Anson Court great confusion reigned. Mrs. Anson 
had not left a line or a word for her husband when she 
crept surreptitiously out in the early dawn; she had left 
him to find out her desertion as best he might. The night 
before she complained of a severe headache, and went to bed 
very early — she could not bear the idea of disturbing Mr. 
Anson, and would sleep in her dressing-room. The first 
thing on waking, her husband, who was always solicitous 
about her, sent to inquire how she was. His man came 
back to say the maid could not tell yet, for the door was 
locked, and as her knock was unanswered, she concluded 
her mistress was asleep, and did not like to rouse her. But 
when ten, eleven, twelve o^clock passed, and still no answer 
to the repeated knocks, Mr. Anson became uneasy, and 
burst in the door. There was no one; the room was disor- 
dered, the bed had been slept in, but its occupant was gone 
now, and no clew remained. Mr. Anson was stupefied. 
What could it possibly mean? He never for one moment 


208 


FEOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


suspected the truth, but paced up and down in a fever of 
excitement. At last he ordered his horse,, and rode over to 
Lady Vibart. She was sitting at luncheon, alone. 

I am so glad you have come, papa,^^ she said, with a 
smile of welcome. I was just feeling extremely dull. 
This is the first day I have been alone, you khow.^^ 

Have you seen Henrietta?'’^ asked Mr. Anson, with an 
anxious face. I can not think what has become of her. 
She is gone of somewhere, suddenly, without leaving a word 
of explanation — and more strange than all, her door was 
locked." 

Lady Vibart turned very pale, and looked at her father 
without speaking. 

Ethel, what makes you look like that?" he cried, sud- 
denly. 

And she left no letter!" said Lady Vibart, speaking her 
thought aloud. 

Not a word. Perhaps it is some little j^rivate affair she 
did not want me to know of, and expected to be back be- 
fore I was up. " 

And when did you see her last?" 

Yesterday evening at nine. She complained of head- 
ache and went off to bed." 

A horrible suspicion crossed EthePs mind. She rose, 
trembling, and went to her father, putting her arms round 
his neck and kissing him tenderly. 

0 papa!" was all she said. 

Ethel, for God^s sake, what do you mean? — what do 
you suspect?" 

1 hardly know. I may be wrong. How I wish Ealph 
was at home !" 

DonT keej^ me in this suspense, Ethel," cried Mr. An- 
son in a shaken voice. Say out what you think." 

Not yet, papa. I might be wrong. Let us set about 
finding her at once. " 

But, child, there is no clew, and what folly it would be 
to awaken people’s suspicions if, after all, it turns out (as 
it is sure to) to be something that a few words will explain. 
She may be at home this moment, waiting for me." 

Lady Vibart despised her father’s wife, and had read her 
through long ago, but she would not utter a word against 
her until she had j^roof, knowing how her father loved her. 

Perhaps, papa. Have some lunch and go home again. 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


269 


I will come to you in the afternoon. I think I may be able 
to learn something. But Mr. Anson could not eat, and 
presently he mounted his horse and rode back to the Court. 

Lady Vibart ordered the carriage and drove to GabrieFs 
Wood. The servant did not know if my lady would see any 
one — she was unwell — but if her ladyship pleased, he would 
inquire. He returned almost immediately. My lady would 
see her ladyship. And Lady Vibart was ushered into the 
morning-room. She needed not to ask a single question — 
she read the horrible truth in Oliver’s hollow eyes, even be- 
fore she spoke. 

0 Lady Vibart, have you news of him?^^ 

Ethel was not demonstrative by nature, but at times a 
great sympathy and tenderness came over her, such as one 
sees sometimes, and wonders at, in those grand, proud, 
self-contained natures. She came quickly up and knelt be- 
side Olive, her rich velvet and furs trailing the ground, j^ut 
her arms around the trembhng form, and laid the weary 
head upon her tender, womanly breast. She uttered not a 
word, only kissed the pale, tear-stained cheek. 

DonT pity me. Laxly Vibart!'’^ cried Olive. He will 
come back. Mr. Fairfax has gone to him, and he will be 
here again very soon. ” 

Gradually Ethel drew from her all that had happened; 
and then she said,- her voice faltering, and her proud eyes 
wet with tears: 

1 must go to my father.” 

Olive gave a great start. 

And all this time I have only thought of myself. 0 
Lady Vibart! And Mr. Anson is suffering too.” 

He does not know yet — I must tell him.” 

Bending down she kissed Olive again, and went out with 
a great sorrow at her heart. 

And people desecrate with this horrible cruelty and 
selfishness the most divine feeling of the human heart, and 
call it lova!” she said to herself, as the carriage rolled 
swiftly toward Anson Court. 

She had left word for Lord Vibart to follow her to her 
father^s house, and she met him riding up the long avenue 
of chestnuts. He gave her a smiling salutation in passing, 
but she stopped the carriage. 

Get off your horse, Kalph,” she said, and I will w^alk 


270 


FEOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


Tip to the house with you. The carriage can go home, and 
if I want it to-night I can send for it.^^ 

My love/^ uttered Lord Vilbart, much surprised;, 
you are not thinking of staying the night?” 

He knew she had never slept beneath the roof of Anson 
Court since it had owned a new mistress. Lady Vibart 
did not speak again until the barouche was rolling away. 
Then she put her hand within her husband^s arm, and 
looked up into his kind face: 

Oh, Ralph! Poor papa!^^ 

What is it, Ethel?” Is he ill?” 

That— that — woman has gone away with George.” 

George? George who?” 

Fabian. And I have just seen that poor child.” 

Lord Vibart stood quite still, and looked at his wife — 
horror-struck — almost stupefied. 

Your father^’s wife? George Fabian?” 

And he does not know yet. We must tell him. Oh, 
Ralph! What shall I say to him? Poor papa — and he is 
so fond of her!” 

They were in sight of the house now. Mr. Anson was 
looking out of the dining-room window, and came to the 
door to meet them. 

Go in alone, dearest,” whispered Lord Vibart . I 
will stay in the drawing-room until you want me. ” 

^^Well, Ethel, well!” cried her father, impatiently, 
have you found any clew to this strange mystery?” 

She followed him into the room, shutting the door, and he 
looked at her with the terrible eagerness of suspense. 

Oh God, Ethel! what makes you look so strange?” 

An infinite tenderness and pity welled up in EthePs 
heart; she burst into a great sob, and she fiung her arms 
round her father^s neck. 

Oh, papa — how shall I tell you? I love you so!” 

Where is she? What do you know? Ethel, donT keep 
me in this sus]pense,” he groaned, with the sicknsss of death 
coming over him. 

She is very wicked, papa. She will not come back any 
more — but I will never leave you again. My own dear 
father — let me comfort you. ” 

Why is she gone? Where?” 

We do not know where yet. She is gone with — gone 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


271 


with George Fabian. And, papa, I have just seen poor 
. Olive — her heart is broken.'’-’ 

Mr.^ Anson stood as if turned to stone. He was so calm, 
so quiet. Lady Vibart was frightened. Presently he put 
her from him, and went toward the door. 

Papa! where are you going?” 

There was a strange gleam in his eyes as he turned: 

I am going to find /izm. ” 

He went mechanically to the hall, and took his hat. Ethel 
ran into the drawing-room. 

Come at once, fialph — you must speak to papa,” and 
Lord Vibart came out, and met Mr. Anson as he was going 
to the door. 

^‘^Ah! Vibart,” he said, in a voice that was strangely 
quiet. How are you? Excuse me just now — I am going 
out — on business.” 

Lord Vibart took his hand quietly, and passed it through- 
his own arm. 

Just one word with you before you go,” and he drew 
him back into the dining-room. What are you going to 

I am going to find /itm/’ answered Mr. Anson, still 
with the same calm fixity of expression. 

Will it not be better to make some plan of action first?” 
asked Lord Vibart. Let us get some clew, and then we 
can go to work at once. Let me make all the inquiries — 
let me get upon the track. ” 

Papa,” cried Ethel, with terror in her eyes, what do 
you want with him?” 

I want to kill him!” said Mr. Anson, still in the same 
strange, unnatural voice, and with the same odd expression 
' in his eyes. 

' Lord Vibart glanced at his wife, and laid his finger upon 
his lips. 

Papa,” said Ethel, quietly, Mr. Fairfax has gone 
already. He will write. Won^t you wait until we hear 
from him? — it may save you much time and trouble. To- 
morrow’s post will perhaps bring a line from him. At 
least wait for :hat. ” 

am going to London, to-night. I shall employ a 
detective.” 

Lady Vibart trembled at the determination in his voice 
and eyes. 


272 


FEOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


implore you to stop! Oh, papa/^ and she flung her 
arms round his neck, ^^is not your own child who loves you 
so — who has loved you all her life — more to you than that 
false, bad woman?” 

Mr. Anson^s brows contracted heavily. 

It is he who is false and bad, and a blackguard!” he 
said, between his set teeth. 

Ethel!” whispered Lord Vibart, ^^go out a moment, 
and let me speak to your father. ” 

She obeyed. For a whole hour she waited alone — an 
hour that seemed like ten. Then her husband came to her. 

It is all arranged. I am going first. When I have a 
clew your father will join me.” 

^^Ealph! — Ealph! ^ cried Ethel, in agonized tones, ^^you 
will not let them fight?” 

^^My dearest, I have given my word to your father not 
to attempt to stop it. But I shall find other means. Trust 
your husband, Ethel! And now good-bye, dear,” and he 
kissed her tenderly. You will stay with your father, of 
course, and I will send your maid with everything you want. 
I go to London by the "night train.” 

God bless you, dear — good-bye!” and she drew his head 
down to her, and kissed him wdth a fondness very rare for 
proud, undemonstrative Ethel. 

The next morning Lady Vibart went herself to the Ab- 
bey to see Mr. Fairfaxes housekeeper. 

Please send me word the moment Mr. Fairfax returns,” 
she said, ^^and I will come to him, if it is ten oYlock at 
ni^t.” 

The housekeeper was petrified. This was the finishing 
stroke to her master^s extraordinary departure. The good 
old soul had for a moment a vague suspicion that there was 
some secret passion between the stately countess and her 
master, but in the afternoon her doubts were cleared up by 
hearing the true story. It was spreading like wild-fire now. 
There was but one feeling for the man and woman who had 
brought this cruel suffering on one so gentle and beloved as 
Lady Fabian — bitter execration. Even his own servants, 
who liked him and acknowledged him a good master, made 
no attempt to exculpate Sir George. My lady, they said, 
was an angel for kindness and thoughtfulness — it had been 
easy enough to see she worshiped the very ground her hus- 
band trod. 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


273 


When Mr. Fairfax returned home, weary and worn out, 
after his long interview with Olive, the housekeeper gave him 
Lady Yibart^s message. He pressed his hand wearily over 
his brow. 

How soon can I have some dinner he asked. 

In half an hour, sir. That to three quarters. 

He looked at his watch. 

Eight o^clock,” he said. Then tell Granger to have 
the brougham round at half -past nine. ” 

^^You wonT sure go out again, sir said the old woman, 
her anxiety mastering her usual awe of Mr. Fairfax. You 
look hunted to death now, and my lady only said I was to 
let her know, and she would come to you. 

I can not allow a lady to come, to me when I can by 
any possibility go to her,^^ said Mr. Fairfax, with a dreary 
attempt at a smile. And, Mrs. Grey — I am so hungry — 
pray let me have my dinner. 

And the housekeeper retired hastily without further com- 
ment. 

At a quarter to ten Alan was ushered into the Court 
drawing-room, and a moment after Lady Vibart entered. 

Tins is very kind of you, Mr. Fairfax, she said, and 
then with another glance at him, would not have 
brought you out so late had I known of it. You have been 
traveling hard, I see by your look. Is there any hope for 
Olive?” 

I can not tell yet. He has left her.” 

Thank God!” said Ethel, in a low voice. ^^But he 
musl not come back here,” she added, with a half-fright- 
ened glance over her shoulder. Papa has taken some 
terrible resolve about trying to kill him, and will do all he 
can to get him abroad to fight.” 

He is abroad now.” 

Where?” 

In Paris. ” 

How did you prevail on him to leave her 9 ” 

^‘1 told him her history before your father married 
her.” 

^^Mr. Fairfax — what do you know? How long have 
you known it?” 

I can not tell you the story. Lady Vibart. I will tell 
your father. When he knows it, I think he will no longer 
want to fight for her. ” 


274 : 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


Lady Vibart looked at him with earnest eyes, yet hardly 
liking to ask any more questions. 

. And George she said presently. That poor, mis- 
guided boy!^^ 

Alan turned with a shade of impatience. 

What, Lady Vibart? Can you still find excuses for 
him? Then you have not seen his poor wife.^^ 

V'es,^^ she answered gently, I have — but I look upon 
this as some terrible madness that has taken hold of poor 
George. It is impossible a man could wantonly have left 
Olive for — for such a woman as my father^s late wife."'^ 

Impossible echoed Alan, with a groan. 

I will not keep you any longer, said Lady Vibart. 

Conie to my father. Lord Vibart has gone to London — 
I had a letter from him this morning — he had found no 
clew then. What made you think of Paris ?^^ 

A fortunate presentiment, I suppose. 

She opened the door. 

Will you see me here for one moment before you leave? 
Pray do everything to put those terrible thoughts out of 
papa^s brain. Will you?^^ 

He entered the drawing-room — ^nerveless and weary, 
with a kind of dread. This was the fifth terrible interview 
in three days, and he felt it was almost more than human 
flesh and blood could endure. 

Mr. Anson received him with perfect calmness. The 
two men were closeted together for an hour and a half. 
There is no need to detail their conversation — the reader 
knows enough to guess at it. Then Mr. Fairfax went back 
to the drawing-room. Lady Vibart rose quickly and went 
toward him. 

I have told Mr. Anson all,” said Alan. He no longer 
wants to be revenged on George; he only prays God never 
to see either of them again.” 

Thank God!” said Ethel, devoutly. And now I will 
not keep you another moment, for you look worn to death. 
Only remember,” and she laid her hand in his and held it 
there — remember how I thank you — how we all thank 
you from our hearts for all you have done. God bless you, 
and good-bye!” 

Good-bye,” he said, in a weary voice. 

He scarcely saw the beautiful woman whose lustrous eyes 
shone so kindly upon him; his vision was haunted by the 


FROM OLTMPJJS TO HADES. 275 

memory of a poor little white face, and a voice broken by 
sobs, crying: — 

Oh, Mr. Fairfax, wonH yon take me to him.^^'’ 

Mr. Anson was an altered man from that day — aged, sad, 
quiet, not impatient, fierce, or morose, only like a man 
who has grown suddenly old in a little while — a man, who 
from passing pleasantly through the green vales and shades 
of life, has been suddenly overtaken by the deep waters of 
bitterness. He had come out of them, but not the same — 
never to be the same again — never to have another deep 
interest in life, or a fresh green shoot amongst the withered 
leaves of dead hope and dead loves. He gave up Anson 
Oourt to his son, and went to live with Lady Vibart. 

You can sell out, my boy,” he said; have no more 
dignity to keep up. You must marry, and bring some life 
into the old Court again. God knows, it is dull enough 
now!” and he sighed heavily. shall stay with Ethel; 
she will give the old man a home mitil he dies. ” 

The tears came into both his children's eyes as he said 
those words in a weary, broken voice, and Grevil grasped 
his father^s hand with a big sob in his throat, while Ethel 
drew his head down and covered it with kisses. 

God bless you both!” uttered Mr. Anson, with a chok- 
ing voice; 1 have something to live for yet.” 

Meantime the divorce was being prepared with as much 
expedition as was convenient. 


CHAPTER XXXIY. 

TOO LATE. 

There is no future pang 

Can deal that justice on the self-condemned 

He deals on his own soul. 

Byron, 

W HO shall say punishment is not meted out to guilt in 
this world, or that retribution tarries for a future exist- 
ence? Ah! there maybe all that anguish of unavailing 
remorse, that isolation from all that is fair and good in the 
world to come, but will it be more terrible to bear than the 
horrible suffering some of us have already known here? It 
is not often that the avenging Nemesis strikes so swiftly 


276 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


and surely as had been the case in the wrong-doing we have 
chronicled — not often the’ awakening from the drugged 
sleep comes so sudden and bitter. 

Sir George Fabian remained in the same posture in which 
Mr. Fairfax had left him— -his head bent down on his arms, 
his face hidden. If ever a human soul passed through the 
depths and shoals of bitterness, ever suffered the intensity 
of remorse, despair, and self-loathing, it was this man, 
■who but a few short months ago had seemed a mark for 
the gods to shower their most lavish gifts upon. He saw 
it all now that it was too late — recognized the blessings 
that seemed all the dearer because they were so irrevocably 
gone. Before this terrible awakening he had argued to 
himself how men had counted the world well lost for love. 
Love! pah! what a besotted fool he had been! Love and 
this poor painted common adventuress! And he had left 
a real, pure, fresh young heart for the false shams and 
soulless passions of — What madness had been in his 
lieart! — what blindness before his eyes, that he should have 
been the dupe of such a hollow snare ! Then one intense 
craving took possession of his heart. If he could see Olive, 
the bright young Olive of former days, and lay his head on 
the tender heart that had never sheltered a hard thought 
of him, and hide there out of the world ^s scorn, out of the 
bitter shame! Too late! too late! the agonizing words that 
have wrung the death-knell of so many hearts and souls — 
the cruel words that stab out the last vestige of hope, and 
seem to delight in their terrible requiem. Twenty-eight — 
only twenty-eight, and in all his life, if he numbered the 
threescore years and ten that are given as the life of a man, 
he would never live down the shame, the remorse of the 
last thirty-six hours. Ah! passing strange that it should 
be impossible for all years, for all centuries, to undo the 
bitter effect of those few hours ot madness! Three lives 
spoiled (he would not even count her sufferings who had 
been the guilty cause) — his own, Olivers, Mr. Anson ^s. 
And he roused himself with a start, for hitherto his 
thoughts of the wronged husband had been vague and un- 
formed. Mr. Anson, the man who had been a second fa- 
ther to him, at whose house he had always been a welcome 
guest. since the days'of his boyhood, who had given him his 
first gun and taught him to ride. Through a mist of the 
long-forgotten past, the memory of old days came back. 


PKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


277 


the days when Grevil and Ethel had been as brother and 
sister to him, and Ciithbert Anson had made no difference 
between him and his own children. 0 God! if he had only 
remembered all this before, only caught through the haze 
of selfishness and passion one glimpse of memory and 
gratitude for the olden days of kindness and good will. 
And his own proud sister, who had been so ambitious for 
him, who, with all her pride, loved him so dearly — Olivers 
father and mother — he began to remember them all now. 
Once a vague thought dawned upon him that he would go 
to Olive, and then as he remembered all these whose wrong 
was so far less than hers, and yet whose judgment would 
be so far harsher, he put the thought from him. He would 
never meet them again — not one of them; he would not 
read reproach in eyes that had never rested upon him ex- 
cept in loving pride; he would go away and hide his bitter 
shame somewhere — no matter where. And as he sat, 
bowed down with the anguish of a remorse in which came 
no shadow of consolation, his mind fied back to the time, 
so short a while ago, and yet so irrevocably lost, when he 
had rejoiced in the young love of a fresh, gracious, tender 
woman, whose eyes had never looked one glance of love on 
another man, never learned one false lure, one practiced 
deception. Too late ! too late I — and, ah, if that vile, false 
creature had for once spoken the truth, and Alan Fairfax 
did love his wife, His wife? No, his wife no longer! 
Never to be anything more to him in all that long, misera- 
ble future which he had made for himself. He was going 
to leave her voluntarily. Perhaps she would still love him, 
still grieve after him a little; and then, after long waiting, 
when he returned no more to her, she would yield to the 
persuasions of her friends, and see how far better it was to 
plant an everlasting barrier of separation between them. 
And then — then she might grow to see how noble, how 
generous was that other heart which loved her. A great 
sigh, a bitter imprecation, burst from the lips of the man 
to whom this thought brought the crowning throe to his 
insufferable torture. 

He looked up suddenly, with a face so drawn and old, so 
scored with passion and lined with pain, that the minutes 
might almost have been years, since the door had closed 
upon the form of the man who had once been his friend. 
His friend! ah! there was another stab. The men who 


278 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


had called him friend three days ago would shrink from 
him now, would scarcely care much to grasp his hand with 
the pressure of good fellowship again. And they say it is 
the women who have to bear all the punishment of an un- 
lawful passion alone. Sometimes, perhaps, but, thank 
God, not always; and external punishment is not the 
hardest thing to bear. Is there any torture, past, present, 
or future, more cruel, more relentless, than that small 
poisoned arrow of the voiceVi thin that keeps up an agoniz- 
ing reminder of what might have been? — more fraught with 
misery than the unseen hand which paints unceasingly the 
future that never will be now? 

Why do we write all this, that has been written ten 
thousands upon thousands of times before, that will be 
written thousands of times again in almost every language 
of the known world? Ah! what was written in Hebrew 
many and many a hundred years ago, by the one man who 
saw the deepest into the suffering and anguish of the hu- 
man heart, was no less trite, appealed no less keenly to the 
poor, aching, tortured hearts of .the men who lived and died 
then, than it does to-day to the sympathies of men and 
women whose pain, whose vain longing, whose remorse is 
felt so keenly now, and yet will be forgotten in the dust of 
to-morrow ! 

Sir George Fabian rose, as if to shake off the thought 
that crushed him. He looked round on the garish light 
and color of the little room, and it seemed to jar, somehow, 
upon his senses. He would go out — ah! yes, he must go 
somewhere, or perhaps that woman, the bare thought of 
whom he loathed so. intensely now, would find him again, 
and force her hateful presence upon him. Then he remem- 
bered that he had given her all his money, and had only a 
few napoleons loose in his pocket. He would have to wait , 
until he could send for some. Suddenly his eye fell on a 
ring — the only piece of jewelry he ever wore — one his sis- 
ter had given him long ago. 

‘‘ I can get twenty pounds on that,^^ he thought, “ and 
send for it when I am in England. He put on his hat 
and walked out of the hotel to one of the glittering shops 
in the Rue de la Paix. 

Strange, when the mind is unhinged, what small occur- 
rences have the power to inflict pain upon us at every turn 
and corner! What sheaves of barbed arrows the furies keep 


FROM OLY3IPUS TO HADES. - 279 

for the unhappy ! — to what poison and gall they know how 
to turn the commonplace events of everyday life! As Sir 
George passed along the corridor, he heard laughing voices. 
They came from a young father and mother, bending over 
a tiny, bright-faced boy, who had just crawled to the door 
of their sitting-room. A great pang shot through the 
young man^s heart as he remembered the little clay-cold 
♦ form, seen but once, but for one moment, that should have 
; been the heir. Ah! he would never have a son now to bear 
his name; the title he valued would go to strangers, for he 
would never call any other woman save Olive wife. 

He had resolved to leave Paris at once, but no definite 
course of future action had yet shaped itself in his mind. 
He must go to London first, and then he would go away 
somewhere, very far away — to India or China — somewhere 
that he might lose all the track mark of the old life — where 
he might forget and be forgotten. He would not go to- 
night. Alan Fairfax — the very name was a curse to him 
now — might be going to England by that nighPs train, and 
he would not risk another meeting. Sooner anything than 
look again upon that face, which bore the impress of what 
was noblest and truest in man — that faith and honor, the 
bare evidence of which tortured the man whose conscience 
was so deeply seared. He' went into one of the brilliantly 
lighted ca/es and ordered dinner, if seems an odd humilia- 
tion that we should be so dragged down from the supremest 
bliss of the ideal or out of, the vast, intense deeps of a more 
than human anguish, by these low, gross wants of our de- 
graded nature. He took up a newspaper while the repast 
was in preparation, and glanced impatiently over half a 
hundred things that had not a vestige of interest for him. 
Then he turned to the American news. There had b^n 
a great battle — one of those horrible carnages which a few 
years ago made all Europe sicken with horror. A grim 
envy of all those dead men, whose requiem was going up to 
heaven in the terrible lament of thousands of wives and 
mothers, came over Sir George^s heart. He had never in 
all his life before thought it could be a good thing to be 
dead — to lie cold, with heart and eyes closed to all the joys 
and sorrows of the world that yesterday stirred one so 
keenly. It is a strange, unkind freak in our natui’e that 
when we are very miserable nothing soothes us half so much 
as to see or hear of the sufferings of our fellow men. There 


280 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


is nothing so bitter as the sight of the gay world merry- 
making and taking its pleasure in supreme disregard of the 
anguish that is wringing our hearts. We forget (or just, 
perhaps, at that time we remember) that when we were 
sunning ourselves in the brightness of glad days, those who 
wear a gay smile to-day were passing through the deep 
waters that must go over the souls of each of us in turn. 
Post tenehras lux — we can not go on being miserable all 
our lives; and ah! how far more bitterly true, we can not 
be sure of one day^s happiness, or call one hour our own. 

A sudden thought came into Sir George Fabian^ s mind. 
He would go to America; he would find a strange, grim 
satisfaction in witnessing the misery and strife there, and 
the thought of the moment ripened into a resolution. The 
next day he returned to England, drew upon his banker 
for some hundreds, took his passage for New York, and 
the third day went down to Liverpool. The boat was to 
start on the following morning and just before leaving he 
penned a letter to Mr. Hamilton : 

‘‘ I start in an hour for America, and must say a few 
words to you before I go. DonT expect any mawkish re- 
grets or any confessions from me. I have sinned, been 
made a dupe and fooj of, and God knows whether I am 
suffering for it! Olive — God bless her and forgive me! 
Olive can live at GabrieFs Wood, or elsewhere, as she best 
pleases, in the same style and manner that she has been 
accustomed to; and when you have prevailed upon her, as 
of course you will, to get a divorce from me, I shall not 
attempt any opposition. If all I possess in the world could 
make up to her for what she has suffered through me, I 
would give it gladly. 

‘‘ George Fabiah.^^ 

Two months had elapsed since Henrietta was left stand- 
ing in that brightly lighted French sitting-room. How the 
weary days dragged themselves out she hardly knew — she 
had been half m^ since then. Even the suffering she had 
caused did not equal the bitter remorse that followed so 
quickly upon the guilty venture on which she had staked 
and lost all. Ah! the agony, the torment of being loathed, 
despised, forsaken by the man for whom she had foregone 
all the reputation, the position it had cost her so much to 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADESr 


281 


build up. And she did not even know what had become of 
him — whether he was perhaps welcomed with rejoicings 
and forgiveness to the home he had outraged, while she 
was an outcast, a pariah, whom no one sought to bring 
back, whose existence might have been utterly forgotten by 
every human being, for aught she knew or heard to the 
contrary. She was in London now, racking her tortured 
brain to find some means of living in the future. The 
money Sir George had fiung contemptuously at her seemed 
to burn her — she would not use a farthing more of it than 
was necessary to keep life together. How passing strange 
it was — what proofs of something of the nobility left even 
in a soul so degraded, that she did not hate the man who 
had, after all, been cruel and unjust to her! No, she was 
mad at having lost him — would have done any mortal 
thing, however bad or cruel, to get him back; but all her 
fury and hatred were for Alan Fairfax and Olive. She 
wondered if Mr. Anson would seek a divorce — she supposed 
he would;’ and once she had some thought of opposing it, 
but gave up the idea as fruitless. At last she determined 
to make an effort to see the man who two months ago had 
been the most tender, doting husband. If she could meet 
him alone — it was not impossible — such things had been 
heard of — she might still be able to exercise some infiuence 
over him, to make her own story good. One day she was 
walking in^the Strand, and met Mr. Anson^s valet. He 
did not recognize her — she always wore a thick veil now; 
but with a sudden start as she saw him she turned and fol- 
lowed him. He walked on with a sauntering gait, stop- 
ping now and then to look in at a shop window, or to re- 
} mark, with the air of a connoisseur, some, sample of horse- 
• fiesh that took his fancy, but still with the air of a man 
who has a destination although he is not in a hurry to 
reach it. She kept at a certain distance behind him as he 
traversed the Strand, made his way past Trafalgar Square, 
along Pall Mall, up St. James's Street, and across into 
Berkeley Square. Then quickening his pace a little, he 
made direct for Thomas's Hotel, and entered. Henrietta 
walked up and down Burton Street for an hour,. so that at 
every turn she kept the hotel in view; but no one she knew 
came out during her vigil. Tired and hungry she turned 
her steps homeward, looking into every carriage and every 
hansom cab as she went. She could not think then— she 


282 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


must shut herself up in her room quietly, and close her 
eyes before any vivid action of her brain would come at 
all. Only vague speculations crowded into her mind as 
she walked along, whether Mr. Anson was in town alone? 
— or if his son or daughter were with him? Had he come 
up about the divorce? — was he there for any time? Hard- 
ly, she thought — he would shrink from going to his clubs 
now, or meeting old friends and acquaintances. He was *> 
not even at his old hotel. If he should be alone, was there 
any possibility of her seeing him? If, by some artifice, she 
forced herself into his unwilling presence, would he listen 
quietly to what she had to say, or would he have her turned 
out ignominiously? At all events, she thought, it was 
worth risking; that was if he happened to be in the hotel 
alone. How should she find out? After dinner, a meager 
meal enough, she took her way back to Berkeley Square. 

As she passed along the brick wall that incloses Lord 
Lansdowne'^s mansion, a splendidly appointed barouche 
came rattling up the stones. She recognized the liveries, 
and then, her face half averted, she saw Lord and Lady 
Vibart, with Captain Anson sitting opposite to them. No 
doubt, then, Mr. Anson was in the hotel alone, but how 
could she get at him, what possible excuse could she in- 
vent in order to obtain admission to his presence? A sud- 
den thought struck her — it was a bold one, b^t it might 
succeed — at all events, there was a chance. She walked in 
boldly, and asked a waiter if he would announce her to Mr, 
Anson. 

“ What name?^^ the man asked. 

“ Mrs. Mayhew — and please mention that I come from 
the lawyer. Mr. Anson is alone, I suppose.’^ 

“ I will see, ma’am, and he went away, and returned 
in a moment. “ Please to step this way.” 

She followed him quietly, but with a beating heart. 
The door of the sitting-room was thrown open — 5ie heard 
herself announced, and standing in the door- way, saw Mr. 
Anson rise to receive her in his usual courteous manner. 
She paused a moment until the door. was closed — then she 
snatched the double veil from her face, and stood before 
him. 

He turned ashy pale, and grasped the back of the chair 
from which he had just risen. 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 383 

You here?^^ he said, in a voice which trembled exceed- 
ingly. 

“ Yes/^ she answered very quietly, not attempting to 
approach him, or throw herself at his feet, as some women 
with more feeling, and less skill in acting, might have done. 
‘‘ Yes, I have not come to trouble you, or to ask anything 
from you. I shall go away quietly in ten minutes, if you 
will hear me, and never attempt to see you any more. I 
don^t mind afterward if I die — it is nothing to me what 
becomes of me, now that I have forfeited all claim to your 
love and the world^s respect. I have only one*desire in 
life, and that is that you should not believe me altogether 
the base wretch I seem to you now.^^ 

A flush came into Mr. Anson'’ s cheeks, and he said with 
passion : 

It is too late for falsehoods and artifices now — I know 
what you are — what you have been. 0 God! that I should 
have called you wife!’^ 

If Henrietta's heart had not been as hard as the nether 
millstone, she would have been touched to see how this 
man, who had been so good to her, was changed and aged; 
but she had not one glimmer of feeling beyond the passion- 
ate sorrow for herself, and the anguish of having lost Sir 
George. Yet there was as much grief and pathos in her 
tone when she spoke again, as though the sight of him had 
wrung her heart. 

“ If you could heap every reproach on me that man^s 
tongue ever uttered,^^ she cried, it could not be more bit- 
ter than what I have endured every day since I left you. 
Won’t you hear me just this once?” she repeated, drawing 
over so little nearer to him — “ this once, and then I swear 
never to trouble you again.” 

“No!” he cried. “ Begone! I will hear nothing.” 

She drew back a step. 

“ You always used to be just, Mr. Anson. I ask no 
more*than justice now. I seek nothing from you — I know 
too bitterly ” (and her voice faltered) “ that I can never be 
anything to you again; but in the memory of what you once 
felt for me — of all your kindness and goodness — ” 

“ How have you repaid it?”* he said bitterly. 

She hid her face in her hands, and a low sob broke from 
her. 


284 


FEOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


If you knew how I am punished, even you would pity 
me.^'’ 

“ Do you know what you have made me suffer? — have 
you any thought of what you have done to me?^^ he asked 
in a voice that was bitterly calm. Look at me! I am an 
old man — I am broken down with shame, shunning every 
one I meet, as though by my own act I had forfeited all 
honor, all claim to respect. My home is broken up — every 
one looks at me askance and pities me,^^ and he stood up, 
fiercely lashing himself up into passion, and cried, You 
dare to cOme and look upon your work! — ^you are not con- 
tent yet, but must see with your own eyes what your vile- 
ness has brought me to!^^ 

She listened with her head meekly bent. 


OHAPTEE XXXV. 

HEHEIETTA AND HEK DUPES. 

Tliou hast not made my life so sweet to me 
That I, the King, should greatly care to live, 

For thou hast spoiled the purpose of my life. 

Idyls of the King. 

“ I WILL only ask you one question,^^ she said presently 
in a low voice, “ and for justice'^s sake you will answer me 
truly. Until that miserable morning when I left Anson 
Court, did you ever doubt or suspect me? — did you ever 
see anything in my conduct that gave you a pretense for 
thinking I was unfaithful to you even in thought ?^^ 

“ Xo,-’^ answered Mr. Anson, forcing out the word. 
“You were too clever for that. 

“ Do not think so hardly of me,’^ besought Henrietta. 
“ I can listen to all your bitter words patiently, because I 
deceived you once. It was the terror lest you should dis- 
cover that one error which drove me to my last madness. 

“ When you have deceived once, it comes easy effough 
the next time,^’ interposed Mr. Anson, bitterly. 

There was a pause, and then Henrietta said: 

“ No doubt you have heard many falsehoods about me 
— no doubt people have tried to make you believe that I 
never loved you, that I was false from first to last, and only 
played my part to make a dupe of you.^^ 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


285 


‘‘You would find it hard to make me think otherwise/^ 
he answered. 

“ Be merciful/^ she entreated, “ and grant me one short 
half hour. After that I will go out into the world again, 
to misery, to poverty, content to die even, so long as the 
last time I shall ever look upon your face I read something 
of compassion rather than the bitter contempt that kills 
me. Remember how godlike it is to forgive. Your heart 
was always guided by noble impulses; you will not deny 
that justice and charity to me which the meanest never yet 
asked of you in vain. 

She had not studied him so long that she was ignorant in 
the time of her need where the weakest joints in his armor 
lay. Mr. Anson took out his watch. 

“ I leave twenty minutes at your disposal,^ ^ he said, 
coldly. 

“You have known all along, began Henrietta, “ that 
I was at school in France, friendless and motherless. I 
have often laughed to you at the life which was lonely and 
hard enough then. One can afford, she continued, with 
a slight tremor in her voice, “ to make light of past suf- 
ferings, when one has passed through them into happiness. 
Nevertheless, that time was one of great hardship and hope- 
lessness. At eighteen, to have none of those anticipations 
that most girls, even in the humblest positions, can enjoy 
is bitter enough in itself. Well, I had nothing to hope for, 
nothing to expect beyond a life of drudgery and servitude. 
I am coming now to that time in my life which hitherto I 
concealed from you. It was a grievous wrong I did you, 
but how could I bear, when you gave me a new hope, a 
new interest (for, think what you may, I loved you for 
yourself), to dash all the new-found brightness of my life 
to the ground? In one of the summer holidays I went to 
stay at the beautiful old chateau of the He Garniers, the 
parents — as by this time you know — of the Vicomte de 
Gamier. He made love to me with all the passionate, elo- 
quence of which he was master, and my brain and heart 
were alike bewildered and dazzled. When I returned to 
the dull, miserable school, I could not forget him — he did 
not mean that I should. He saw me in secret constantly. 

I never, dreamed but that he meant to marry me, until one 
miserable day, when I could no longer doubt the meaning 
of his words. I fled from him in horror, and for weeks I 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


^8G 

never saw him again. My life seemed so miserable, I 
longed to die, as I do now. Under false promises he in- 
duced me to see him again, and then he pleaded all the 
misery of my life, and his love, so eloquently, that, at last, 
I consented to join him in Paris. It was his calculating, 
worldly wisdom that invented the story of my new-found 
aunt, to divert suspicion from himself, for his sister was at 
the same school with me. I was with him three months, 
miserable, in spite of all the luxury and amusements he 
heaped upon me, and, unable to bear my own remorse, I 
left him. For months I was ill of low fever, and in want 
— then Providence threw in my way the means of earning 
my bread honestly. From that time until two months ago 
no living man or woman can cast a single reproach at me. 

“You will find it hard to make the second part of your 
story fit in as well,^^ interrupted Mr. Anson, with a curl 
of his lip, and yet a sort of uneasy return of his old belief 
in her. 

“ Do you remember the time, sixteen months ago-," she 
went on, “ we met Sir George Fabian and his wife in 
Paris The hardest part of her task was coming now, 
when she turned accuser of the man she loved to the one 
toward whom she was utterly indifferent. “ From that 
time he conceived some strange infatuation for me, and 
constantly sought my society. I would not tell you— it 
would have been wiser if I had — but I could not bear to 
bring annoyance upon you, or a breach between two fami- 
lies which had been so much to each other. I did my ut- 
most to repel him, but the more I avoided -him, the more 
frantic became his passion.^^ Henrietta felt a certain pleas- 
ure in saying those last words — she would have liked to re- 
peat them until she really believed their truth. “ By some 
miserable accident he gained a clew to my having formerly 
known Monsieur de Gamier, and then he set himself to 
work to find out my unhappy secret. 

“You are forgetting,^ ^ interposed Mr. Anson, coldly; 
“ it was Mr. Fairfax who discovered everything. 

Henrietta was staggered for a moment, then she resumed 
quietly: 

“ I donT know who played the spy — it may well have 
been Mr. Fairfax, since he had more to gain by it than 
you dream of; but however that may be. Sir George Fa- 
bian knew it, and threatened me with it. He swore, un- 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


287 


less I consented to go away with him, that he would ex- 
pose all the miserable past to you, and that, with your 
strong feelings of honor and justice, you would turn me 
away from your home and heart. 

“You might have waited until that time came,^^ said 
Mr. Anson, with hitter reproach in his accents. 

“ I think I was mad— my terror took away from me all 
faculty of reasoning, and at last I went with him. But in 
Paris, before Mr. Fairfax came, I had declared to him that 
I would never look upon his face again. From that time 
to this I have never heard of or seen him — he may be dead, 
he may be thousands of miles away, for aught I know.’’"’ 

“ He is in America. 

* She gave a start, a sort of sickness came over her at the. 
thought of the wide sea which lay between them, and then 
a sudden reaction of joy that he had not gone back to her 
rival. 

Mr. Anson took out his watch. 

“ The time is up,^^ he said slowly. 

She knelt down before him. 

“ Only give me one kind glance,'^ she implored, with 
tears in her eyes, “ only tell me you do not think me so 
unutterably base and wicked, and I will go away almost 
content.” 

He trembled — his fingers twitched convulsively — the 
sight of this woman, whose influence had been so great 
over him, affected him visibly. Her quick eyes discerned 
his weakness. 

“Oh, Cuthbertl^^ she gasped, “ whatever you may think 
of me — however you may spurn me, I shall never love you 
less dearly. ” 

Mr. Anson made one supreme effort, and called up all 
the dormant pride and energy of his nature. 

“It is too late now,^^ he said. “ I am disgraced, dis- 
honored; you can be nothing to me now. Hard as it is, I 
forgive you. Your story may be true or false, it matters 
little now — if every word of it were gospel truth, it could 
not bring us together. Never try to see me again. I will 
take care that you shall not waht. Send your address to 
Mr. Hales, and if you have any further communication 
with me it must be made through him. Now go,'^ and he 
rang the bell sharply before she could stop his hand. 

The waiter answei’ed the summons immediately, and she 


288 


FKO.M OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


went out perforce very quietly with only one long glance at 
the man who was still her husband. 

And when she was gone, he laid his head down on his 
arms, and cried like a child. He loved her still, as many 
a good man and woman loves the being who has broken 
their hearts, and outraged every feeling of trust and hu- 
manity. 

I Henrietta went home to her miserable lodging, and gave 
way to one of those violent fits of weejfing which now and 
again overcame her. She hardly knew what upset her 
mental strength at this juncture — she had rather more 
cause for congratulation than had ha2323ened to her lately. 
Not for one moment had she imagined Mr. Anson would 
take her back — hardly that he would listen with patience 
to what she had to say. At least there was something 
gained — ^he had promised to give her money, and* that re- 
lieved the terrible anxiety which had of late haunted her. 
She did not cry because of any regret for the husband who 
had been so kind to her — her heart seemed utterly incapa- 
ble of any pity beyond herself, any emotion other than for 
Sir George. She was sobbing these passionate tears to 
think of all she had renounced in vain — of her tremendous 
sacrifice, and its utter folly and fruitlessness. To have lost 
all and gained nothing! And he was so hopelessly far off 
now. For one moment a thought of following him flashed 
across her, and then she remembered his face, his voice, 
his gestures as she had seen him for the last time, cursing 
her. Talk of the tortures of Eastern fanatics who fix 
their strained blinded eyeballs .on the meridian sun, or 
clinch their fists until their nails grow through the palm! 

. Talk of Stylites chained to a i)illar high up in air for thirty 
years! What comparison do those bodily agonies bear to 
the bitter tortures of which the human mind is capable? 
Ah! more fine, more subtile still than the tissue of nerves 
which give such exquisite pain or pleasure to the fleshly 
frame, is the souFs net-work of mental feeling ihat can 
neither be seen nor analyzed. Every day science comes 
nearer to the causes wliich breed so much suffering in our 
mortal parts, and finds means to alleviate them; but who 
shall dissect the emotions of the heart, and find a moral 
cure for the terrible diseases and pangs of the soul? 

It is better, perhaps, not to chronicle too minutely all 
the torment and remorse this woman felt; we do not care 


PROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


289 


to enlist sympathy in her behalf, and there is that nobility 
in most minds which can not but feel a merciful pity for 
those who suffer, however bad or unworthy they may be. 

The following day Henrietta sent her address to Mr. 
Hales, her husband ^s solicitor. In the evening she re- 
ceived a note from him, inclosing a check for seventy-five 
pounds. He was instructed, he said briefiy, to forward a 
similar sum to her every quarter, and would feel obliged by 
her letting him know where she wished it sent in future. 

A week after Henrietta was in Paris at a French board- 
ing-house under the name of Mrs. D^Almayne. Before she 
quite settled down, she had another scheme to carry out, 
for however wretched she might be, she never left any plot 
in abeyance that might tend to her own benefit. Every 
afternoon she went into the Champs Elysees from half -past 
four until seven. It was getting late for the Paris season, 
but the broad drive was still crowded with brilliant car- 
riages going to and from the Bois, for the next Sunday was 
to witness the French Derby. Mrs. D'’ Almayne was look- 
ing for some one, and the first four days she looked in vain. 
But on the fifth her eyes lighted on the desired object. It 
was a dark, handsome man, in a black Tilbury with scar- 
let wheels. He was driving a magnificent bay horse with 
black points, three parts thorough-b^red. Every vein in its 
arched neck quivered, and the foam dropped from its 
mouth and sides, and yet his master, after the manner of 
his countrymen, flicked and worried the beautiful creature 
every moment with a light ivory-mounted whip, and want- 
ed to overpace the already quick, splendid action. A little 
English groom with folded arms sat beside the elaborately 
dressed owner, and underneath ran the biggest and most 
ferocious-looking brindled bull-dog. 

“A la honne lieureF^ muttered Henrietta; for the gen- 
tleman in the 1'ilbury was none other than the Vicoriite de 
Gamier. She looked at her watch. Half -past five, and 
in an hour he will return.^*’ At a quarter-past six she got 
into a voiture de remise, and ordered the man to walk his 
horse slowly down the road. Presently De Gamier passed 
her, and she called to the driver to keep the gentleman 
with the houle-dogue in sight, and she would give him a 
franc pour-hoire. But a slight disappointment was in 
store for her. Rene dismounted at his club, and sent horse, 
dog, and groom awav. Mrs. D'’ Almayne alighted, paid 


290 


I-ROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


the cost and pour-boire with inward dissatisfaction, and 
proceeded to pace up and down, keeping the club in sight. 
In half an hour he came out, and she followed him. Pres- 
ently she laid a hand on his arm, and he turned. When 
he recognized her, he appeared charmed, expressed himself 
enchanted at the meeting, inquired what had brought her 
to Paris, and how her amiable husband found himself ; to 
which Henrietta replied gayly that she was in Paris alone 
on business, and that she wanted to have a little conversa- 
tion with M. de Gamier. He was completely at her service 
— when should he have the honor of calling at her hotel? 
Mrs. H^Almayne said it was scarcely convenient that he 
should call upon her, but if he would not think it too 
strange, if he was on the way to his apartments, she would 
accompany him to say these few words that were not con- 
venient in the street. L)e Gamier was a little surprised, 
but he assented courteously to her wishes without further 
remark. When Henrietta found herself alone with him in 
his luxuriously furnished rooms, she threw off the mask at 
once. 

Rene, I am in terrible troubje, and you are the cause. 

“ Madame!'’^ ejaculated De Gamier, in the accents of a 
great surprise. 

‘‘ My husband has banished me from his house, because 
he discovered the past. 

De Gamier devoutly wished his guest and her husband 
at the court of King Pluto. A word that seemed to have 
a good many r’s. in it was faintly audible behind his silky 
mustache. 

“ And but for your cruel imprudence, our secret would 
have been safe now, and I should have been happy and re- 
spected, instead of a miserable outcast. 

“ What does this mean, Henrietta?’^ cried Rene, im- 
patiently. Explain yourself. With what do you re- 
proach me?’^ 

“ Have you forgotten that evening at GabriePs Wood, 
and those foolish words you spoke before Mr. Fairfax about 
my singing Theresa's song at the Hotel St. Honore? Well, 
Mr. Fairfax was a spy; he hated me, and made it his busi- 
ness to come over here to find out all about me." 

De Gamier leveled a bitter anathema at the English- 
man. 

What did this woman want of him? — what price was he 


FEOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


291 


to pay for this piece of folly? As for her, he never wanted 
to have anything to do with her again; and besides, at this 
moment he, with the rest of tlie jeunesse doree, was crazy 
about a golden-haired nymph with an ethereal alias, who, 
bedizened in imperial diamonds, was taking Paris by storm, 
and whom it would have been invidious to remember or 
mention as the quondam hawker of fish in an English sea- 
port town. 

Henrietta saw with a feeling akin to bitterness that she 
had nothing to hope from any kind remembrance the past 
might awaken in this man; he might perhaps do some- 
thing for the sake of getting rid of her, and, after all, she 
wanted nothing more of him. 

He Gamier bit his mustache impatiently. 

‘‘ I scarcely see, Henrietta, by what right you burden me 
with your present or future. A liaison such as ours can 
never be anything more than temporary, and when all is 
over between one, I scarcely see the right that either has to 
make claims upon the other. 

‘‘ Rene/^ said Henrietta, rising and assuming a proud 
dignity that really had something grand in it, “ after I had 
loved you as I did, I could not have left you to starve as 
you did me — I could not have met you in after-years, when 
I was rich and happy, and you were dragged down into 
poverty and shame by my indiscretion, and said, ‘ Go your 
way— it is not my affair — I will have none of you!^ Adieu! 
I shall trouble 5^ou no more,^^and she swept toward tile 
door. 

Now the Vicomte de Gamier had certainly little or no 
heart, but he had a certain amount of that chivalrous sen- 
timent which inspires a great many of the kind, and a 
great many of the foolish, actions of Frenchmen. Henrietta 
had calculated very accurately the effect- her parting 
shaft would produce, and was not surprised when Rene 
placed himself in her way, crying, ‘‘ Stop, Henrietta!"^ 

“ Let me pass, monsieur,^^ she said, haughtily. 

No,^^ he answered, firmly; “ you are right — I owe you 
some reparation. ” 

‘‘It is nothing. Monsieur le Vicomte,^^ she uttered bit- 
terly: “ I have been ill and dying of starvation in Paris 
before — it will be nothing new to me. 

“ Be reasonable, my child, you shall not die of hunger. 
But I do not see how your husband can turn you away and 


292 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


leave you destitute, if lie can bring nothing against you 
since your marriage. 

‘‘ He allows me a miserable pittance,^^ answered Hen- 
rietta; “ tlie law obliges him to do that. 

De Gamier was in too great a hurry to be rid of this 
trouble to consider the extreme oddness of the English laws, 
which turned an innocent wife upon the streets; he knew 
marriage in England was a very strange and inconvenient 
institution, as regarded by the standard of French ideas, 
but he was not sufficiently interested to go fully into the 
matter (fortunately for Henrietta). He had an engage- 
ment in half an hour, and he would barely have time to 
dress. 

“ What will this bear of a husband give you, Hen- 
rietta?^^ he inquired hastily. # 

‘‘Three thousand francs a year,^^ she answered, 
moodily. 

- “ Bien!” exclaimed De Gamier. “ I will give you the 
same every year, as long as you avoid troubling me or ask- 
ing anything else of me.^^ He went to an elaborate 
escroitoire, pulled out a bundle of notes, and handed them 
to her. “ Now, ma belle, pardon me, but 1 must attend 
a diplomatic dinner, and it will be an ill compliment if I 
am late.^-’ 

“ Adieu, Rene,^^ said Henrietta, sadly, too wary to show 
any exultation, and not even thanking him for his gener- 
osity; “ I shall not trouble you any more.^^ 

“ Adieu, Henrietta. As long as you keep to your com- 
pact, the same sum will be every year in the hands of my 
agent, Le Prince, on this day.-’^ 

She passed out into the street, very well contented with 
her afternoon'' s work. “1 shall do now,"^ she said to her- 
self, with complacency; I shall be able even to make 
some show, and get into society — not amongst the creme de 
la creme perhaps, but thick milk will do as well for my 
moral digestion; and perhaps Fortune will give me one 
more turn in the scale. That intense respectability was, 
after all, dull. And in August I shall go to Baden-Baden 
and Homburg."^ 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


293 


CHAPTER XXXVL 

POOR OLIVE. 

She looked upon him mournfully. 

While her large eyes were grown 
Yet larger with the steady tears 
Till, all his purpose known, 

She turned slow as she would go, 

The tears all shaken down. 

E. B. Browning. 

Lady Fabian" went home to her father house. That 
was a very sore trial to her. She would not have consented 
to it but for the earnest entreaties of Mr. Hamilton, and 
his solemn promise that her movements should be entirely 
uncontrolled, and that she should never see the face of a 
visitor. He represented to her, as delicately and kindly as 
possible, how painful her position would be at GabrieFs 
Wood, and how insupportably galling even the sympathy 
that might be shown her must naturally be to a 2)roud 
spirit. For Olive, in spite of her weakness for this man 
who was all in all to her, had an immense deal of pride in 
her character. She might be weak and dependent where 
she loved so intensely, but there was a strong current of 
resolution and haughty intolerance of control lying very 
near the surface. An instance of the proud spirit, which 
this bitter sorrow had not even crushed, occurred two days 
before she left the house that had been so dear to her. 
Mrs. Stanhope came from Scotland to see her. When she 
Entered the room, Olive, not from love to her, but from 
the strong feeling that this terrible link of trouble bound 
them together, would have put her arms round her hus- 
band ^s sister, and kissed her. But Mr^ Stanhope drew 
back little, and Olivers lips only, brushed her cheek 
lightly. Bitterly hurt, Olive drew herself up, and re- 
mained standing. Mrs. Stanhope'^ took a chair some dis- 
tance off. 

“ Where is my brother?^ ^ she said. 

Olive absolutely started. She cast one bitter glance at 
her sister-in-law — the tears came into her eyes and she 
was silent. 

Have you heard of him?^^ Mrs. Stanhope resumed. 


294 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


‘‘ He has gone to America/^ Olive said, dragging out 
the unwilling words. 

‘‘ And you never tried to stop him?^^ cried Mrs. Stan- 
hope, impatiently. 

Lady Fabian froze into pride as chilling to the full as 
any her interlocutor was capable of, and made answer: 

‘ ‘ If you have no sympathy, no kindness for me in your 
heart, why did you come?^^ 

Mrs. Stanhope had not one grain of pity for the suffering 
of her brother’s wife. The only spark of softness in her 
nature was for him, and she thought Olive to blame for all 
that had happened. She was galled by the proud tones. 
Nevertheless, she answered quite calmly: 

“ I came to get news of my brother — my brother whom 
I have loved all my life long, and who was the dearest 
object in all the world to me 

And was he nothing, then, to me?” cried Olive, stung 
to the quick. 

‘‘ You know best. If he had been so all in all to you, 
you would hardly have let him bring this disgrace upon his 
family. If your love had not been more for yourself than 
him, you would rather have yielded your own comfort and 
pleasure to his, than have made his life a weariness by per- 
petual complaints and tears and reproaches.” 

There was enough truth in these cruel words to make 
them go bitterly home to Olive’s heart. But she was not 
bound to listen to them — to be insulted and tortured here 
in her own house. 

“ Mrs. Stanhope,” she said, with a gesture of such proud 
dignity that it startled her hearer, I have known long 
enough that you disliked me, and that you were cold and 
heartless. I never, in my harshest thoughts, gave you 
credit for such utter want of womanly feelings as you have 
shown to-day. The best thing I can wish you is, that 
when you think of this scene you will feel ashamed of your 
part in it. As long as I live I will never willingly see you 
again.” And she walked quietly to the door, and closed it 
behind her. But her pride only lasted her until she reached 
her own room, where she sobbed out her despairing bitter- 
ness. 

Her mother and sisters were very kind, and meant to do 
all in their power to cheer and console her; but they were 
devoid of that nice tact which knows and avoids instinct- 


PKOM OLYMPUS TO SALES. ^95 

ively everything that wounds. Their idea of showing her 
sympathy was inveighing against Sir George, and wonder- 
ing at his cruelty and heartlessness. They were provoked 
that Olive would not openly discuss her sorrow, and find 
the consolation in accusing and complaining that they 
would have done under similar circumstances. She was so 
silent, and so self-contained, that, excepting for her hollow 
eyes and pale look of suffering, they would have doubted 
sometimes whether she was unhappy, and had not forgot- 
ten her husband. Two or three times they had urged her 
to let Mr. Hamilton commence proceedings for a divorce, 
and the last time her mother said: ~ 

“ My dear, I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but it is 
evident that — that bad man means you to separate yourself 
from him; and you must pardon my saying so, but I think 
it shows a want of proper pride for you to continue in this 
very anomalous position.” 

Lady Fabian rose and left the room, with a terrible 
choking sensation in her throat. In the evening, when 
her father returned, she sent for him. 

“ Sit down, papa,” she said, her voice trembling and 
faltering, and the unbidden tears springing to her eyes. 
‘‘ I have something to say to you. ” 

He came over, kissing her tenderly; and sat beside her 
holding her hand. John Hamilton, hard as he might be 
in the outer world, had an infinite softness and tenderness 
in his heart for real suffering. He could hardly ever look 
at his favorite child now without the scalding drops stand- 
ing in his eyes. 

‘‘ Yes, dear,” he said, tell me.” 

“ Papa; I know you all mean it for the best, but you 
will break my heart.” 

He knew what she meant. 

‘‘ Olive,” he began with an unsteady voice, “ your father 
would not say a word to pain you that he could conscien- 
tiously help, but, dear, for your.own self-respect — ” 

She sprung from him and stood upright, her eyes flash- 
ing with excitement. 

Papa, if I am a trouble and disgrace to you all — let me 
go away and hide my shame and misery — but never speak 
to me again of that. I will never voluntarily put a barrier 
between my darling and me. He will come back some 
day. 0 papa! when he sees how patient I am, and how 


296 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


utterly I love and forgive him, he will come back to me 
again. 

Mr. Hamilton could not say anything more — he was over- 
come by those piteous tones. 

‘‘ There, there, my love,^^ he said, in a soothing voice, 
‘‘ no one shall say another word to you on the subject. 
Bathe your eyes and come down to dinner; your poor old 
father misses you when you stay upstairs. 

“ Yes, papa, I will come. And you will tell them?’^ 

“ YesI^'’ and Mr. Hamilton went straight to his wife and 
daughters, and laid strict injunctions on them never to 
broach the subject again. 

“ After a time she will perhaps feel differently,^^ he 
concluded; ‘‘ but let her have her way now, poor thingl^^ 
and he sighed heavily. 

What terrible suffering is caused by a vivid imagination! 
Perhaps it sometimes gives us a sort of indemnity^ a keener 
zest for pleasure, a more intense enjoyment than the dull, 
commonplace mind is capable of, but in sorrow what a 
pitiless scourge it is to its possessor! On a woman with a 
less delicate organization of sense and nerve than Olive, 
the same blow might have fallen with intense severity; 
but it could not have brought that daily and hourly torture 
which even the commonest event had power to inflict on 
that finely wrought mind. To such as Olive, memory is 
the most cruel, most ruthless tormentor. Of them was 
never written a deeper truth than in that exquisitely worded 
line of our great poet: 

“ A sorrow’s crown of sorrow is remembering happier things.” 

Thus everything around her was a sad reminder of the 
supreme happiness of the time when she had been so dearly 
loved, when fortune had been so more than kind to her. 
Every incident was remembered by her with that keen mi- 
nuteness which turns past joys into present pain. Yet she 
kept up very bravely, very hopefully, although the days 
seemed to drag themselves out into weeks in their endless 
dull uneventfulness. She longed so for some one to whom 
she could speak unreservedly about her suffering. Often 
her thoughts traveled back to Alan Fairfax, and she felt a 
great longing to see him. She had never seen or heard of 
him since that night when, as she knew now, she had been 
so bitterly ungrateful. How she regretted it! “ And yet,^^ 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


297 


she thought, ‘‘he is too noble, too large-hearted, to resent 
the selfish injustice of a great trouble like mine. The 
only person to whom she ever opened her heart was her 
poor old nurse. She was nothing but an ignorant old 
woman, perhaps, but she had that fine tact which nature 
sometimes gives in place of breeding and refinement. 
There never came a word from her lips that hurt poor 
Olive’s sensitive heart; she suffered and grieved over her 
wounded lamb, but her pity and sympathy were never in- 
trusive. Sometimes when Greet was hovering about her in 
her loving, solicitous way, Olive would throw her arms 
round the old woman and sob her heart out on that faith- 
ful breast. 

“ 0 Greet, what have I done to deserve all this misery? 
How have I ever been wicked enough to be punished like 
this? How can people say God is merciful when He lets us 
be tortured so for nothing? If I had committed a great 
crime I could not have deserved worse misery than this! 
0 Greet, why was I ever born? Why did I not die when I 
was a little child?'’’ 

“ 0 my dear lamb, I can’t tell you anything, or explain 
the Lord’s ways, ” answered Greet, her eyes overflowing as 
she gently rocked the poor little head to and fro. “ The 
Scriptures say they’re past finding out. I’m only an 
ignorant old woman — I can’t argue or explain; but I do 
believe, my dear, that all works together for good to them 
that loves him. P’r’aps you was getting a little too much 
set up in your heart about your good fortune, and was nigh 
forgettin’ who sent it; and then the blessed Lord wan&l 
to keep you in his own hand, and wouldn’t let you wander 
astray out of mem’ry of his love and power over you. 
Shall He send good and not evil? Think of David, dear [ 
lamb, and how the Lord raised him up from nothin’ to all 
that honor an’ riches; and then when he forgot where it all 
came from, and trusted in his own strength an’ mighti- 
ness, how the Lord sent sore trouble upon him until his 
pride was quite bowed dov/n, an’ he saw the wickedness of 
his own heart. 0 deary, when he writ those words, ‘ Out 
of the depths have I cried unto thee, 0 Lord, ’ he was in 
worse plight than you to-day in all your sore trouble, be- 
cause he was in despair about his own wickedness, as well 
as the punishment it brought on him. We aren’t meant 
to be happy here. Miss Olive, dear — we don’t know quite 


298 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


why, only we^re goin^ to be so much happfer an^ better off 
one day, and then we shall count it all as nothing all this 
trouble as well-nigh breaks our hearts here/^ 

“ But, Greet, when we are punished so cruelly for noth- 
ing, it does not draw us to God or to make us love him; 
it only makes us afraid of him, and think of him as a hard 
taskmaster, who loves to kill us and make us miserable. If 
Ae made us happy we should always love him, and want to 
do right. 0 Greet! if God can do everything, why does He 
not make every one good and happy?^^ 

“ Ah! my lamb, I canH answer you there; that^s puzzled 
many a poor heart, and made stumbling-blocks in the way 
of many a believer. We shall know some day, deary, but 
I always think of it like this. There is some great reason 
why sin and wickedness . abounds, though we canT see 
through, nor know it yet. You an^ me, my dear, an^ every 
creature in the world, wouldnT suffer no pain nor trouble 
if we could help it. If Twas in our power to be always 
happy an^ at ease, wouldiiT we look to our own good afore 
anything else in the world? AVell, my lamb, do you think, 
if it hadnT been for some great cause that nothin^ else could 
get over, the Lord of Glory would have left all the bright- 
ness an^ the bliss o^ heaven to come down here and suffer 
misery and want? Ah! somethin^ far harder an^ bitterer 
than ever you an ^ I felt, my lady. See, dear, aYeady in 
your life youY^e had a deal of happiness an’ good things, 
an’ the blessed Lord had only sorrow an’ waut, an’ no 
place even where to lay his head.” 

Yes,” said Olive, presently, with a great sigh, all that 
is true, but it does not seem to comfort me, or make me 
any happier. ” 

‘‘ Not now, deary, not now,” answered her old nurse, 
soothingly; “ you’re too' sore an’ bitter now to take those 
blessed comforts. But it will come, never you fear, dear; 
the Lord will bring your heart to see the right, an’ then, 
p’r’aps, when He sees you humble and turned to him. He’ll 
give you more happiness and pleasure than you’ve ever yet 
had. Look at Job, dear — ^look at all the trouble as was 
heaped on him — how he was bowed down with sorrow an’ 
sickness an’ poverty, an’ yet he was a good man, as loved 
God, and walked in the paths o’ righteousness. Only he 
trusted too much in his own strength. But when he came 
to se§ in the right lights th^ Lord raised him again to 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 299 

I 

honor an^ riches, an^ gave him such happiness as heM never 
known in all his life More. An'’ ph’^^aps, my lamb, that^s 
the way the merciful Lord hill deal with you, an^ some day 
youhl look back upon all this troublous time, an^ make no 
more count of it than if it had been a dream. 

I shall never be happy again, Greet,^'’ uttered Olive, 
with that sad, prophetic feeling which often comes over 
young people with all their lives yet before them. 

Yes, deary, you will, an^ I hi tell you for why. Some 
people are born to lead a jog-trot sort o^ life, an’’ never 
know great sorrows or great joys — everything^ even an^ 
smooth with ^em. Then thereh others — an'’ I think you he 
one, my lady — as has great bits o^ good fortune an^ bitter 
adversities — as are what I call always up or down. An^ 
so your good times '’ull come round the same as the bad 
ones. Why, when one gets an old woman, like me, there 
isnT much to look for in this world; but, my dear, it M 
seem heaven upon earth to some women to be only twenty, 
with a pretty face as every one loves to look at like yours, 
an'’ to be rich besides.'’^ 

“ 0 Greet, cried Olive, petulantly, “ what is the value 
of good looks and riches when oneh heart is broken?'’^ 

“ Ah! my lady, dear, you^d soon find the miss o' them 
if you hadn'’t got 'em. You don't know, dear, how friends 
fall off fi'om those who are poor, and plain, and old. 
Thank the Lord you've never known that bitter experi- 
ence, which 'ud make your sorrow, bad though it is, ten 
times harder to bear. " 

So, in her humble way, the faithful old woman tried to 
soothe her nursling, and bring her to a happier frame of 
mind ; and I am disposed to think that her poor untutored 
words had as much weight in the sore-wounded heart as 
though they had been uttered clothed in the finest elo- 
quence or grandest rhetoric of an educated divine. When 
we are sore smitten, we want something more than fine 
words — the poorest utterances that come from the depth of 
faith and conviction will give us an incalculably greater 
comfort than the grandest stereotypes of divinatory elocu- 
tion. 

Mr. Hamilton saw, with ever-increasing anxiety, that his 
youngest daughter was becoming daily more thin and worn, 
and at last, after much 'consideration, he determined that 
the best thing to be done for her was to procure a com- 


im 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HAULS. 


plete change of scene. She had never been to Switzerland 
— the air was invigorating, and the best time of the year 
for the trip Just approaching. He could not go himself, 
but Mrs. Hamilton and one of the girls should accompany 
her, and she could take her maid. When he had settled 
everything in his own mind he imparted his wishes to Mrs. 
Hamilton. She acquiesced at once, being rather pleased 
with the idea. 

“ Yes, poor dear, I think it will be the very thing, she 
said; “ but ! do not like the notion of leaving you, John — 
we have never been separated for more than a week.'’^ 

‘‘ I shall miss you of course, Mary,^^ answered her hus- 
band, kissing her kindly, “ but I think we are bound to 
sacrifice something to that poor child,'’ ^ and his eyes moist- 
ened. 

‘‘Yes,^^ acquiesced Mrs. Hamilton. ‘‘ I shall leave it 
to the girls to decide amongst themselves which shall stay 
at home. I fancy Mary will hardly care to go, as she is 
seeing so much of John Napier Just now. 

A cloud crossed Mr. Hamilton's" brow. 

“ I donH want to hear of Mary or Alice getting mar- 
ried,'’ ^ he uttered, impatiently. 

“ My dear John,^^ said his wife, with some motherly in- 
dignation, it is not because Olive’s marriage has turned 
out badly that the other girls are to remain single all their 
lives.” 

There was nothing left now but Olive’s consent to be 
gained. When her father first broached the subject she 
shrunk from it. 

‘‘ Oh, no, papa — I am very well as I am.” 

But, my love, it may do you so much good. You 
must try and divert your mind — you are getting so thin 
and pale. Make an effort, if it is only for your old fa- 
ther’s sake.” 

But, papa — suppose — suppose he should come back 
while I am away?” 

Mr. Hamilton sighed. 

“ Well, dear,*’ he answered with effort, “ if he does, I 
will telegraph to you that moment, and you can come back 
at once. ” 

“ Do you promise that, papa?” 

“ Yes, child, I promise.” 

‘‘ Then I will go, if you wish it. ” 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


301 


So it was settled, and one morning, very early in June, 
Mrs. Hamilton, with Alice, Lady Fabian, and the maid, 
took their departure from England en roiUe for Switzer- 
land. 


OHAPTEE XXXVII. 

RETROSPECT. 

All, me, my friends! there is no perfect friend! 

Montaigne. 

Alah Fairfax, knowing that employment is the uni- 
versal panacea for mental suffering, interested himself act- 
ively in the improvement of his property. His heart ached 
often enough — his thoughts were constantly directed toward 
the woman he would have been so glad to shield from 
suffering; but his were not the hot and cold fits of evanes- 
cent youth, which despairs and forgets with such inconse- 
" quent violence and haste. He would never have a less 
tender love for that poor broken life — ^never, he felt, less 
faith in the truth and purity of that one heart, although 
his belief in women had been so cruelly shaken. To be 
angry with her for the injustice she had done him in her 
wild grief was a thought far alien from a generous heart 
like Alan^s. Had he known how she longed to see him he 
would have gone to her at once; he was as ready now as 
ever to endure pain and trouble for her sake. Idiis last 
love which had no selfishness or self-seeking in it, had 
brought out all the better feelings that had lain dormant 
from his youth until now. The influence of a pure love 
is as ennobling as that of a base one is degrading. Strange 
that we should employ the same word to describe tlie no- 
blest sentiment and the worst passion of men^s hearts. It 
was hardly to be wondered at that for all these years he had 
been bitter against women. It was a woman who had 
blighted the ten best years of his life, and wlio had robbed 
him of his dearest friend. 

Two-and-twenty years ago — ah! what a long time that 
seemed to look back upon! — he and Arthur LT^strange 
had been bosom friends at Eton. Orestes and Pylades, 
.zEneas and Achates, Damon and Pythias, David and .Jon- 
athan, they used to be called laughingly by their school- 
fellows. Well they earned their nicknames, for surely, 
among the boyish friendsliips that are the soul of public- 


302 


PROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


school life, never was a more complete bond of union than 
existed between the two of whom we write. They were 
bound together by a stronger tie than similarity of taste 
and thought — dissimilarity. Do we not often remark that 
the strongest, the most lasting loves and friendships are be- 
tween those whose natures are the most strangely contrast- 
ed? We submit that, to make the bond entire, there must 
be a certain sentiment of nobility and generosity in the 
minds of both, so that in spite of diversity there may be a 
mutual respect, without which neither friendship nor love 
can be lasting. Alan Fairfax and Arthur L ^Estrange then 
possessed these attributes in common, and they loved each 
other with all the undemonstrative affection of boys verging 
on manhood. The superior physical strength of the one 
was balanced by the mental power of the other. Alan was 
bold as a lion, and excelled in all manner of sports — his 
courage and daring were proverbial. He had a stalwart 
frame, was tall of stature, and his frank, handsome face 
was one that made people take an instinctive liking to him. 
Arthur was tall, too, but slightly and delicately made, and 
his black hair and deep, melancholy, gray eyes formed a 
strong contrast to the brown eyes and curly auburn hair of 
his friend. Passionately fond of reading, a good musician 
and linguist, his tastes led him in direct opposition to those 
of Alan. These youths grew into manhood as different, 
and yet as devoted as ever. Both went into the Guards — 
Alan from choice, Arthur because his uncle wished it. 
Young Fairfax had a handsome income, Mr. L^Estrange 
was dependent on the caprices of his relations, but he never 
knew the want of money. Alan treated him just as he 
might have done a younger brother — lent him horses, took 
him about, and paid for everything; and such was the affec- 
tion between the two, that one never begrudged giving, and 
the other was not humiliated by receiving. They went un 
immense deal into society, and were universal favorites^ — 
Alan for his bright, handsome face and courteous man- 
ners, to say nothing of his wealth and position; Arthur for 
the talents, and the languid fascinations which made him 
even more dangerous to feminine peace of mind. When 
Mr. Fairfax was five-and-twenty, he fell desperately in love 
with a girl of nineteen, and proposed to her. She accepted 
him, on condition that they should not be married for a 
year, and that for the present their engagement should be 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


303 


kept secret. Alan was too open and straightforward to 
like this arrangement, but he was also too much in love to 
oppose any serious resistance to the wishes of his idol. He 
consented, only stipulating that her father and his mother 
should be taken into confidence. Blanche Hayward was 
a spoiled child, who governed her father, and, indeed, most 
people about her, completely She had no mother, no sis- 
ters nor brothers, and her sway was undivided and abso- 
lute. Mr. Hayward was a man of good family, but not un- 
tarnished reputation; and to those who knew him inti- 
mately there was something mysterious in the style and 
appearance which he maintained. His extravagance be- 
tokened a latent sentiment, akin to that of Charles Lamb^s 
friend, who vowed that money smelled offensive after it 
had been kept three days. I dare say sometimes he en- 
larged, too, with Elia, upon the miserable, hang-dog coun- 
tenance and manner of the lender, and the jolly honhomie 
of the habitual and shameless borrower. He soon began 
to make use of his future son-in-law, who responded to his 
demands again and again with a vexed, ashamed feeling, 
and a great horror lest his innocent unsuspecting Blanche 
should discover her father ^s degradation. He fancied, in 
his manly simplicity, that the knowledge would have made 
her die of shame. 

Blanche was not exactly pretty, but piqiiante, 

and had tact and savoir faire enough to have made her 
eminent in diplomatic circles. She was one of those women 
who can make men believe an3rthing — even that she was 
the loveliest creature on the face of the earth. She was 
utterly unworthy of the true heart that loved her so dearly. 
She was false, meretricious, heartless, self-seeking, and did 
not even care for him. Her real motive in delaying to 
publish her engagement was the hope that something bet- 
ter might turn up. This was too good a chance to let slip, 
but she would like a coronet better. ^ Lord Mathusalah was 
not too old for her, nor Viscount Cygnet too young. And 
all this time Alan believed her the purest type of woman- 
hood, and was duped into fancying she adored him. After 
all qu^ importe P there is much more in what we fancy 
than in the actual reality, and if he had never found her 
out, how would he have been the worse? He became ac- 
quainted with her in the country during the shooting sea- 
son; they rode and danced together, and took those 


304 ' FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 

tiiiual opportunities of being in each other'’ s society that a 
pleasant country-house affords. Mr. L’ Estrange was in 
the North with his uncle, and knew nothing of his friend^s 
love-affair; and when they met again in town, Alan con- 
sidered himself bound by his promise, and with great cha- 
grin refrained from making Arthur his confidant as usual. 
He, however, introduced him to Blanche, and saw, with 
secret pleasure, that the impression formed was mutually 
favorable. 

The year elapsed, and just as the time arrived for the 
engagement to be made known, Mr. Fairfax was sent for 
by his mother, who was dangerously ill at Nice. He obeyed 
the summons instantly, not even waiting to say good-bye to 
Blanche. The young lady did not feel chagrined, because 
in her heart she was utterly indifferent to her handsome, 
generous young lover and his devotion rather bored her. 
Besides, in her caprice and absence of faithfulness or prin- 
ciple, she had fallen violently in love with Arthur Es- 
trange, and had quite made up her mind to fascinate him. 
During Alan'’s absence, his friend spent almost every day 
with \\i^ fiancee, utterly unconscious of the tie that bound 
her. Had he been aware of it, he would have fled the temp- 
tation at once; but, unhappily, he learned nothing of his 
friend '’s secret until it was too late. Blanche rode, danced, 
and exercised all the store of her fascinations upon him, 
and he became hopelessly in love with her. It was not long 
before he made her an ardent declaration of love, and then 
at last she confided her secret to him. He was completely 
stunned by the news — it fell like a thunder-clap upon liim, 
and he would have turned from her with bitter reproaches 
on his lips. But men are weak, and women are deceitful, 
and Blanche was not long in persuading him that she loved 
him entirely but was forced to marry his friend to extricate 
her father from the difficulties that were gradually closing 
over his devoted head. Mr. L’ Estrange felt keenly how 
unfair all this was to Alan, but he was essentially weak, 
and then we know how many men^s rectitude of purpose 
and generosity of heart become warped under the influence 
of a strong passion. So he went on seeing Miss Hayward 
day after day, until he was startled out of his drugged sleep 
by a letter from Alan. His mother was better; he intended 
to bring her home. It appeared the warm climate did not 
suit her, and she was advised to return to England, Arthur 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


305 


was to secure the most comfortable suite of rooms possible 
to be obtained for the invalid, and to expect them in a 
week. This letter suddenly awakened Arthur to a sense 
of his dishonorable weakness. After a great struggle, he 
resolved not to see Blanche alone again. His greatest de- 
sire was to keep all knowledge of what had happened from 
Mr. Fairfax. He felt how different would have been his . 
friend ^s conduct under similar circumstances. All that 
winter he endured the keenest mental suffering, for in the 
fear lest Alan should detect his real feelings, he forced 
himself to meet Miss Hayward constantly in society. 

The engagement was made public now, and the wedding 
even fixed for the ensuing spring. Blanche and her father 
were to spend a month with Mrs. Fairfax, at the Abbey, 
and Alan insisted that Arthur should make one of the party. 
He would have refused if he could, but his friend was ur- 
gent, and then he felt a miserable kind of pleasure in being 
in the company of the girl he loved, and believing that she 
cared for him. Mr. Fairfax was happy in his fancied secur- 
ity — ^he had not the slightest suspicion of foul play, and he 
loved and trusted his future wife, with boundless confi- 
dence. 

One sunny afternoon in April he was writing in the 
library. He had sadly neglected business matters of late, 
and had intimated his intention at lunch of devoting a 
whole afternoon to them. He had been busily engaged for 
about an hour, when there came a low tap at the door. 

Come in!^’ he cried, impatiently, for he had given 
orders that no one should disturb him, and the old steward 
entered. His manner was nervous and excited. 

‘‘ Beg pardon, sir,-’-’ he commenced. “ I^m sure, sir, 
you know I wouldnT do anythin^ to pain you, but it’s my J 
dooty, and 'please, Mr. Alan, come with me quick. -” ! 

“ What on earth do you mean, George?” cried Mr. Fair- 
fax, bewildered. 

‘‘Oh! don’t stop to ask no questions, sir, you’ll see it 
all for yourself, if you come quick. ” 

Alan rose without another word, and followed the old 
man into the garden bareheaded. George took his way 
into the rhododendron garden, skirting the evergreens and 
shrubs. 

There was a small path leading past the back of a forest 
of holly and arbutus, in which was niched a rustic seat. 


306 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


The old fellow pointed to Alan, making a sign of silence, 
and then went off in another direction. Suddenly Mr. 
Fairfax caught .sight of a light dress through the screen of 
holly, and an odd sinking came into his heart. He ap- 
proached nearer as the sound of two voices he knew well 
came toward him. It was his friend — his friend — who 
was speaking now. 

0 Blanche! why donT you tell him, or let me? He is 
such a noble-hearted fellow — he would forgive us, and it 
would be worse to him if he knew you married him without 
loving him, than if he had to give you up.^^ 

“ HonH talk like that, Arthur. I must marry him — 
my father will never forgive me if I give him up. And 
when you are by, I feel as if I hate him — his kisses after 
yours — 

Mr. Fairfax heard no more. With white lips he turned 
and went back into his room, which he had left five min- 
utes before. He locked the door, and sat down by the 
table, resting his head on his arms, trying to realize the 
•horror of that double blow — the” blank, utter misery that 
had come into his life. One thought kept. reiterating itself 
in his mind — he must never see either of them again. The 
sun was sinking lower and lower in the heavens, and yet 
he had not resolved what to do. At last he thought of his 
mother. She loved him with all her heart — she was brave 
and firm — she would tell him what he should do. His 
heart shrunk from the pain of baring its cruel scar even to 
those tender, loving eyes. But he must see her before he 
went away; for he would go away, and it would be keen 
pain to her that he should leave without one word of part- 
ing. He rang the bell and told the servant to ask Mrs. 
Fairfax if she would come to him. It was the first time 
he had ever sent for her — he never forgot the courtesy due 
from a son to a mother. 

Mrs. Fairfax came quickly — a little surprised at so un- 
usual a summons. The mother’s quick eye saw at the first 
glance that there was something wrong. She laid her 
hand upon his arm with a gentle, soothiiig touch. 

“ 0 mother!’^ he groaned. In those days he was not 
the man of iron will and self-command that we have known 
him since — he had a brave, generous heart, easily softened 
under a woman’s touch. 

What is it, my boy?’^ 


FROM t)LYMPUS TO HADES. 


307 


And he told her what he had heard. Mrs. Fairfax did 
not burst into bitter invective, as some women would have 
done; a cold, sharp pain took hold of her, and she was 
silent. Only she drew down the beloved he^, and kissed 
her son twice, thrice, with that fond, sympathetic fervor 
that speaks more than many words. 

‘‘lam going, mother, only I could not leave without 
bidding you good-bye. 

“You will not see — ^Arthur?^^ 

“No.^^ 

“ Nor her?^^ 

“No. You will see them, mother, and tell them that I 
know everything. 

“ Yes, Alan, if you wish it. Where shall you go?^^ 

“ I don^'t know, mother. I have not thought of any- 
thing yet.^^ 

“ Always let me know where you are, dear. And if you 
ever care to have your mother with you, Alan, send for 
her, and she will come to you wherever you may be. 

The voice faltered this time, and tears stood in the brave 
eyes. 

“ I know, mother. God bless you! One ought never 
to despair, when one has such a mother,^^ and he tried to 
smile. “ I — I shall not come back — till they are married. 
Let me know when it is over,^Mie gasped. “Good-bye, 
dear, once more.^"’ 

And with the great yearning of amother^s love and pity, 
Mrs. Fairfax put her arms round her son^s neck, and kissed 
him once again, and then turned quickly and went away 
to her own room. An hour afterward Alan was gone. 

When all was known a terrible despair seized on Arthur; 
Blanche was frightened, and Mr. Hayward furious. He 
insulted Mr. L' Estrange, threatened his daughter, and 
would have even blustered a little at Mrs. Fairfax, but one 
flash of her proud eyes quieted him. 

“ I think there is nothing more to be said between us, 
Mr. Hayward, she uttered, in her most icy tones. “ The 
best thing that can be done for all parties will be to hasten 
the wedding, where the best friend takes the bridegroom^s 
part. ^ ^ She was too m uch of a woman to spare that one 
shaft at the man on whom her son had heaped such love 
and kindness all his life. Arthur winced cruelly under the 
sting. 


308 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HAt)FS. 


But Mr. Hayward had not the slightest intention that 
liis daughter should mate with a penniless adventurer, as 
he chose to call Mr. L^’Estrange, and the fair Blanche her- 
self did not care to urge the point. She was terribly 
chagrined at the result of her imprudence. However, her 
regrets vanished when, two months afterward. Lord 
Mathusaleh offered to share his tottering coronet with her; 
and she reflected, with great sang froid, that if you must 
niai-ry a man you didiiH-care about, of course it was more 
desirable to have an earl than a commoner. So, after all, 
the dmou&ment was rather fortunate than otherwise. 

A fortnight after Mr. Fairfax left the Abbey, his mother 
forwarded a letter in Arthur^s handwriting. * He was dis- 
posed, at first, to throw it aside unopened, but presently 
changed his mind and read: 

“ Alan, I am going to sell out and go to India. I will 
never write to you or try to see you again; only, for God^s 
sake, send me one line and say you will try and not think 
too hardly of me. If you could know the hell I am in 
now, and have been ever since I saw you last!'’^ 

It was days before Alan made any reply, and then he 
wrote the following lines: 

“ I will try and forgive you, because I believe if you still 
have any of that honor left which I once believed in so 
firmly, the bitterest punishment that can ever come to you 
will be the remembrance of how you betrayed the man 
who loved you with all his heart, who would have given his 
life for you, and the thought that you have robbed him of 
the one friend who was dear to him, and the one woman 
he loved. 


CHAPTER XXXVHI. 

IK QUEST OF LETHE. 

Had it pleased Heaven 

To try me with some sore affliction, had he rained 
All kinds of sores and shames on my. hare head; 

Steeped me in poverty to the very lips; 

Given to captivity me and my utmost hopes; 

I should have found in some part of my sold 
A drop of patience. Othello. 

Mr. Fairfax could remember all these things now 
without bitterness, as most of us can in after years look 


PROM OLYMPUS TO HADES* 


300 


back with comparative calmness on the keenest suffering 
of our lives. Occasionally he met his old love in society, 
and then he could quite acknowledge how kind Fate had 
been in preserving him from a marriage which could only 
have caused him grievous disappointment. My lady looked 
passes, and was peevish and spiteful — her tottering old hus- 
band was not dead yet. 

One morning in June a letter came for Alan, in a hand- 
writing that he well knew. Hastily he broke the seal and 
read : • 

“ Dear Mr. Fairfax, — For this long time past I have 
been hoping to see or hear from you. I know how un- 
grateful I must have seemed for all your kindness to me, 
but I hardly think you would resent it; you are too gener- 
ous. They have persuaded me to go abroad, and we start 
to-day. When I return, will you come to see me, in token 
that you have forgiven me? Believe me always, gratefully 
and sincerely yours, 

‘‘ Olive Fabiam.'’^ 

Alan read over every line half a dozen times, then he 
laid it down with a sigh. If I had known two days 
sooner,^^ he said Jo himself, “ I would have gone at once. 
I did not think she would care to see me. Poor little soul, 
how miserable she is, I dare say, though she is too proud 
to hint a word about it to me. If I could only do some- 
thing to comfort or make her happier! but I suppose noth- 
ing short of bringing back that blackguard of a husband 
of hers would be of any use. God knows I would go after 
him even now, if there was the slightest chance of making 
him see reason. 

Olive was traveling for the benefit of her health and 
spirits. Do any of you, my readers, know what that 
means? Did you ever go from place to place in search of 
distraction, with a terrible sorrow weighing down your 
heart? If so, you will remember how far more keenly the 
constant change tortured you at the time (however much 
it may afterward have benefited you) than if you had re- 
mained quietly amongst familiar scenes. If you were sur- 
rounded by beautiful scenery, its very beauty made your 
lieart ache to think that nature could be so fair and smil- 


310 


PROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


ing without, when you were so utterly desolate within; or 
you would call to mind how such scenes had filled you with 
delight in- former days, when your pleasure had been echoed 
back from the eyes and lips you loved best in all the world. 
If you were in the midst of the turmoil of a gay city, 
thronged with workers and pleasure-seekers, did it not 
pierce you with a keener stab to remember that there was 
not one amongst all those tens of thousands to whom you 
were aught, or who was aught to you? I always remem- 
ber those lines in Stephen's letter to Maggie in the “ Mill 
on the Floss. They might even seem commonplace to 
any one who had not felt the depth of them, but there must 
be some, at least, to whose hearts they appeal : 

‘‘Perhaps they tell you I have been ‘ traveling.^ My 
body has been dragged about somewhere, but / have never 
traveled from the hideous place where you left me.^'’ 

And so, whether she was driving about the gay Boule- 
vards, being whirled past mountains and vineyards, gliding 
along the blue lakes, or being driven through the lovely 
Swiss passes, her heart was equally heavy — equally chained 
to the memory of that one bitter loss. 

If her husband could have heard that constant piteous 
appeal her heart sent up day and night, ‘‘ Oh, my darling, 
only come back to me, and I will forgive you everything^^ 
I think he would have turned his back upon the miserable 
scenes he was daily witnessing, and come straight to her. 
But he had no means of knowing, and she went on break- 
ing her heart after him, and wetting her pillow nightly 
with bitter tears. 

She had not even poor old Greet now to soothe her with 
her earnest sympathy, and she could not find one grain of 
comfort in the well-meant arguments of her mother and 
sister. Sometimes she would break quite away from them, 
and hide herself in some wild Or quiet nook, to indulge her 
tears and her misery. Once they were staying up in a 
lonely chdlet on the brow of a mountain facing Mont 
Blanc. Mrs. Hamilton and Alice were writing letters de- 
scriptive of the beauty of the scenery, the utter and melan- 
choly isolation from their kind into which this freak of 
Olivers had brought them, the perils of their ascent, and 
the excellence of the butter and cream. Olive stole out, 
and ascended through the pine-trees to the summit, taking 
her seat on the soft turf beneath the trees. It was a blaz- 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


311 


ing June day in the valleys, but here the cool wind came 
straight off the snow mountains with a delicious softness 
and freshness. She sat alone with an aching heart looking 
down on the scene before her. Her eyes fell on the thick 
grassy slopes, with their thousand wild-flowers and myriad 
bright-hued butterflies; on the. dark, rich clumps of flr and 
pine leaning against the mountain-side, and sending up 
their fragrant aroma through the warm air; on the grazing 
cattle, dwarfed by distance; on the quiet Swiss villages, 
made of a handful of cottages, with a church in the midst; 
on the white-looking, deserted roads. There lay the beau- 
tiful blue lake, glittering as a steel mirror in the distance, 
and all around, like a frame to a lovely picture, stretched 
the long, majestic range of mountains. Behind, the great 
snow-king reared his head into the blue sky, while wreaths 
of white cloud lay tranquil on his breast. Peace reigned 
round in the valleys and on the everlasting hills, but there 
was no peace in the poor human heart that beat and 
throbbed so passionately — no brightness in the eyes that 
took in so much beauty. The passionate lament of Thekla 
was wringing in Olive’s ears as she covered her face with 
her hands, while the blinding tears streamed through her 
fingers — I have lived and loved — let me die!” It is so 
easy to say that — so natural to want to die; the hard, the 
bitter, the unendurable thing is to go on living after all 
the brightness is gone out of life — after we have lost the 
love that made existence worth having. 

Ah! what an anguish of desolation there was in going 
about the world alone, uncared for, after having had a 
strong arm to lean upon, a heart into which, in the old 
days, she could pour every trouble, every pleasure. She 
remembered now with aching intensity the time when he 
had loved and flattered her, and cared for no other society 
than hers. As she closed her eyes, blinded by their mist 
of tears, she could hear again the ring of his footstep in 
the hall as he came in from hunting, and feel that thrill 
of grateful satisfaction that he had come back to her once 
more safe. Her keen imagination pictured him in a thou- 
sand scenes of the past, which made the awakening to the 
present tenfold more bitter. She covered her face with 
her hands, and sobbed aloud. 

“Oh! how hard it is, how hard, how hard!” she gasped. 

I don§ for all this misery to como upori n^o? 


312 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


Did I not love him with all my heart? Was I not grate- 
ful? All my life gone, and I am only twenty-one. Noth- 
ing to hope for. And he wonH come to me any more. Oh, 
my darling, if you knew how I loved you, you would have 
some pity on me. Am I so hateful that he could not care 
for me any more? Oh! what have I done! what have I 
done! If God would only let me die now; I donH want to 
live if no one cares about me."^^ 

And so she moaned and sobbed away the bright J une 
afternoon, and her mother coming some hours later to seek 
her, found her lying crouched down under the pine-trees, 
with a white face and swollen eyelids, her hands clasped 
round her knees, and her gaze far away over the dark 
chain of the Jura. 

Mrs. Hamilton stooped down and kissed her. 

‘‘ I did not know you were out, love,^’’ she said kindly; 
‘‘ you should not go away to fret by yourself. If you 
could only see things in a right light — he is not worth all 
this sorrow. 

Olive made a gesture of weariness. 

‘‘ Oh, mamma, don^t talk like that. How can I help 
being miserable? What have I to look forward to, or to 
care for besides him? What is pride to me? I haven '’t 
any pride where he is concerned. Oh! why could not some 
other trouble have fallen upon me instead of this? If we 
had become poor, and lost everything we had in the world, 
but only kept to and loved each other. Nothing would 
have seemed hard to me, if only I had him. Ah! mam- 
ma, you don^t know what it is. You have papa — you doiiH 
know what it is to have no one in the world to care for 
you.^^ 

“ It is ungrateful of you to say that, my dear, I think. 
AVe all love you, and Would do anything in the world we 
could for you, only you shut yourself up so in your grief 
one has no opportunity of — 

I^’m not ungrateful, indeed, mamma, and of course I 
know you all care for me, but, oh, mamma, it isn’t the 
same,” and Olive heaved a great sigh. 

AVhen we grow older we get to know there is not very 
much to expect or hope for; but when we are quite young 
it seems so terrible to have nothing to look forward to. 
And Olive had given up hoping now, and only saw the dark 
side of life. She thought she would have suAered the feel- 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


313 


ing of loneliness less acutely if her father or some man had 
been with them — it seemed such a miserable thing to go 
about with only women. Often they met with bright, hap- 
py young couples traveling, and Olive would watch them 
secretly with a knot in her throat, and an overwhelming 
recollection of the time gone by. Once, as she sat in a 
corner of a lake steamer, she observed next her two people, 
young, handsome, well-bred, happy, evidently husband and 
wife. Watching them keenly, without seeming to watch, 
she noted the soft inflections of their voices to each other, 
the bright glances that shot occasionally from loving eyes, 
and it troubled her, haunted her, made her suffer acutely. 
For she thought of the time — such a short time ago too — 
when she had received all the tender cares and attentions 
this husband gave his wife; and she and Sir George had 
been as young, as bright, as fond, with all the world before 
them like these two. How happy she had been, how proud 
of him: what importance his handsome face and distin- 
guished air had seemed to give her! And now she was so 
horridly alone; she shuddered even when her name was 
uttered. A thrill of annoyance, of shame, sent the flush 
to her brow when she heard her sister asking the maid 
rather loudly after Lady Fabian — it seemed to her as if 
every one must know her miserable story, her disgrace. 
She even fancied these two people saying, “Ah! then that 
is the woman whose husband left her!^’ She could hear 
the pitying tone in which the wife would say, “ Ah, poor 
thing and lean closer to her handsome young husband. 

Often now Olive thought of Mr. Fairfax, and of all his 
kindness and gentleness to her. She longed to see him 
once more — she felt she could tell him all about herself and 
her sorrow, and he would never grow impatient or weary of 
listening. 

One evening she was sitting in the garden of the Trois 
Couronnes at Vevey, looking down over the low wall on to 
the lake lying calm as a mirror beneath. The moon shone 
in a floor of silver light over the dark, quiet water, and on 
the rugged chain of mountains that seemed to hem in the 
scene all round. It was a strange contrast to the heat of 
the June evening in the sheltered valley to see the snow 
lying so thickly in every crevice of the jagged peaks. 
Little pleasure-boats glided along the lake, hung with gay- 
colored flags, and in the distance ran the quick paddle- 


314 FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 

wheels of the steamer on its way home for the night. From 
the opposite side on which it had passed came the long 
ripple smoothly, lifting every tiny craft on the bosom of a 
wave until it reached the shore and broke. A rich scent 
of roses and honeysuckle came through the warm, heavy 
air, strains of soft music issued from the other end of the 
garden, and now and then there was a sound of pealing 
laughter from a gay group of children. The rooms were 
brilliantly lighted — cozy little parties were sipping their tea 
and coffee on the terrace or under the trees, and chatting 
merrily; altogether the scene would have seemed, and did 
seem, an enchanting one to those whose hearts were light. 
But the happier, the brighter the scene, the more sorrow- 
fully it seemed to weigh on one sad spirit. Time was when 
no one would have appreciated such a scene more highly 
than Olive. Ah! what a terrible scourge is the memory of 
the time that is gone by when it seems gone forever! How 
hard to remember the beauty that we had when we are old 
and wrinkled and gray now, and no one cares to look at us! 
How bitter to think of the luxury in which we lived once, 
when we have only a bare pittance now; how agonizing the 
remembrance of that great love we had in by-gone days — 
the love that saw us and all we did with such fond, proud 
eyes — when we are left alone to-day, and no one thinks 
or cares much about us, would miss us greatly if we died 
out of their world. 

Alice Hamilton stepped out of the window presently and 
came toward her sister. She held some letters in her hand, 
and Olive cast one wistful glance at them, and then looked 
away again with a sigh. 

Olive, mamma sent me out with your hat; she is afraid 
you will catch cold. ^ ^ 

“ Thank you, dear, but it is very warm. I think we 
shall have a thunder-storm before long. Is that a letter 
from papa?^'’ 

“ Yes — and oh! by the way, here is one for you from 
Mr. Fairfax, that he asked papa to forward. 

Olive took it with a slight gleam of pleasure in her eyes, 
and held it for some moments without breaking the seal. 

Alice glanced at it once or twice, and then said: 

“ Are you not going to read your letter?^' She had a 
secret admiration for Mr. Fairfax. 

Olive opened it. 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


315 


“ I am so sorry/^ Alan said, that you did not write 
before you left England. I should have been so glad to 
come and see you, if I could have been of use, or had 
, known you cared to see me. I am thinking of visiting 
Germany, having a very long-standing invitation from Herr 
von Englehart, and if you will send me a line to let me 
know where you are likely to be the end of next week, I 
: will go on to see you. " 

I She felt glad, the first time for many a long week. 

\ ‘‘ I will go in now,^^ she said, rising. ‘ ‘ I want to write 

aletter.^^ 

You might let one know what Mr. Fairfax says,^^ re- 
marked Alice, somewhat sharply. 

“Oh! he desires his compliments to mamma and you,^^ 
answered Olive, absently. And Alice followed her in, 
considerably nettled at her making what she considered “ a 
mystery about nothing.'’^ 

Olive wrote back to Mr. Fairfax: “We shall be at 
Chamouny or Martigny next Friday or Saturday. If you 
are anywhere near, do come. I shall be glad to see you. ^ ^ 
When she went to bed that night she felt lighter of heart 
— there was something to look forward to. The week came 
to an end with traveling and sight-seeing, and late one 
night they arrived at Cliamouny. Saturday, Sunday, Mon- 
day passed, but nothing was seen or heard of Mr. Fairfax, 
and on Tuesday Olive relinquished all idea of seeing him, 
and started to cross the Tete Noire for Martigny. It was 
only another drop in her cup of disappointment, but she 
had ceased to expect any pleasure or relief now. She only 
sighed to herself as the baleful word Kismet crossed her 
mind. 

It was a lovely day, the sun streaming down in all his 
brightness from a cloudless sky, and making the quick 
limpid streams run shimmering and dancing down the 
mountain sides, melted from the g'reat ice-blocks. The 
guides picked bunches of Alpine roses and strawberries for 
the English mademoiselle with the heaux ypaux, as they 
called her; and told her stories of thnir dangerous expe- 
ditions in former years, and the poor fellows who had been 
swept away by the avalanches. She passed the little 
primitive chapel, and bent her head in courteous salutation 
to the venerable priest who stood by the way-side. “ Dieu 
vous bmmej ma Jille,” he said, with a pitiful glance at 


316 


FBOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


the sad young face. The party stopped to lunch at the 
midway inn. 

I am not hungry, said Olive. I shall go on and sit 
by the way-side until you join me.'’^ She walked slowly on 
for some distance, and then sat down by the road-side. Her 
heart ached all the more because the scene was so lovely, 
the day so fair. The gurgling river boiled and surged over 
the great round stones at her feet; from the extreme heights 
of the opposite mountain glittered and seethed the silver- 
foaming cascade, leaping, drifting between the great fissures 
of rock, then boiling in quick eddies round the massive 
fallen bowlders. Sharp snow-peaked aiguilles reared them- 
selves up against the blue brightness of the summer sky, 
gleaming with all the refiected splendor of the midday sun. 
There was plenty of soft cool shade under the tall firs, and 
the broad-leaved trees that overhung the foaming Eau 
Noire, and here Olive sat to rest, and thought: 

‘ ^ If I could only forget, this peace, this beauty might 
make me happy. Now it only seems to make me crave 
more after the love and happiness I have lost. 

Two women went past, ugly and brown like all the Swiss 
peasant women. Some distance off a man and woman 
were hoeing a patch of potatoes. It came suddenly across 
Olivers mind that it was better to have her own life, with 
all its sorrow, than the dreary vegetative existence which 
seemed to make great happiness and great grief alike im- 
possible. 

She closed her eyes, lulled by the sweet cadence of the 
leaping waters. Presently a sh^ow seemed to fall across 
her, and she unclosed them with a start — a glad start, as 
she sprung up, crying, Mr. Fairfax 

He took her hand, and looked into her face for a moment 
with his kind, faithful eyes; and then he smiled down upon 
her, saying, “lam so glad to see you once again. 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


317 


CHAPTER XXXIX. 

A NOBLE HEART. 

She dreams of him that has forgot her love. 

You dote on her who cares not for your love. 

’Tis pity love should be so contra^. 

Two Uentlemen of Verona. 

It is hardly necessary, perhaps, to say that the pretext 
Mr. Fairfax offered for following Olive to Switzerland was 
a very shallow one indeed. It was perfectly true that he 
had a warm mvitation of long standing to visit Herr von 
Eilgelhart {whom he had once placed under an obligation) 
at his Schloss; but there was no earthly reason wh}'- he 
should avail himself of it in this particular year, or at this 
especial season. He did not attempt to deceive himself, 
although he considered it necessary to give a probable rea- 
son for his visit to other people. Nor was there any occa- 
sion for self-deception. His object was not a selfish or self- 
seeking one — his love was of that purer kind which finds 
its reward in ministering to the pleasure and comfort of the 
beloved one. With rare thoughtfulness for a man, he had 
pictured to himself how lonely Olive would be traveling 
about with only her mother and sister, after she had been 
used to the constant companionship of a man; and he was 
quite aware of the dissimilarity of feeling and character 
that would make them wanting in sympathy for her 
trouble. He never for one moment thought of profiting 
himself by the power of making her happier; but he be- 
lieved that the society and care of a man she liked and 
trusted would take something from the burden of her silent 
suffering. 

He judged rightly — she was glad to see him, and he tvas 
able to make her feel brighter and less lonely. She would 
talk to him for hours of her sorrow and her desolation, of 
her hopes and fears, and would feel a different being after 

E ouring out all her trouble to his sympathizing ear. And 
e would advise and soothe and comfort her, just as if he 
had not loved her with all his heart — just as if it had not 
been gall and wormwood to him in secret to hear the con- 
stant iteration of her love and despair for this man who was 


318 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


SO utterly unworthy of her. It is not often men love with 
such a lo7e as Alan Fairfaxes. He was no saint; his life 
had not been purer or better than most menu’s, but for this 
frail, delicate woman he had such a chivalrous respect that 
he would rather have died than that she should suspect he 
had any warmer feeling than friendship for her. He put 
an iron guard on his lips — that was easy enough; but also 
he controlled those far more unruly members, the eyes, so 
that they should not betray him. 

Olive did not feel half so lonely now. He was always by 
her side, ready to give her his arm, to fold her shawl round 
her if she was cold, to fetch everything she wanted, and 
even to anticipate her slightest wish or movement. It was 
all done so quietly, she hardly knew how much he did for 
her — his attentions were never especially marked to her; he 
was equally ready to be useful to her mother and sister. 
He had asked Mrs. Hamilton's consent at once to Joining 
them for a few days in their travels, and she had agreed 
most gladly, having received a hint from Alice that her 
society was what Mr. Fairfax sought. Alice became con- 
siderably nettled, after a few days, that Olive engrossed so 
much of his time, and was so frequently alone with him, 
and chose to consider her sister very selfish and thought- 
less. She had hinted as much to her mother. 

‘‘ I think with you/^ said Mrs. Hamilton, ‘‘ but I scarce- 
ly see what is to be done. We are traveling for Olivers 
health, and she seems more happy and cheerful now than 
she has been. I am afraid to say anything at all to her.'’^ 
Alice looked sulky. 

‘‘ I donH see why because people have a little trouble 
they should never think of any one but themselves,'’^ she 
said, crossly. 

‘‘We must make allowances for her,^^ remarked Mrs. 
Hamilton, deprecatingly. 

“ I am sure he must think her very tiresome sometimes,” 
uttered Alice. 

“ He seems to me as if he could never do enough for 
her,” answered her mother. “ I never saw a man so kind 
and thoughtful.” 

“ I think you might speak to her, mamma.” 

Mrs. Hamilton was perplexed, and turned the subject 
over in her mind, 

“ If I thought he was in love with Alice,” she said to 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


819 


lierself, I would not hesitate, but I really do not see any- 
thing that would lead one to suppose that he — Alice, dear,” 
she continued aloud, “ it is rather a delicate question; but 
do you — do you think Mr. Fairfax — have you any grounds 
for supposing that he cares for you at all?” 

Alice responded in a pettish tone: 

‘ ‘ I only know that when I was in town he was always 
coming to the house, and seemed most anxious I should go 
to GabrieFs Wood in the autumn — and — well, mamma, 
what else would he be here for now? I suppose you don 4 
fancy he^s in love with Olive?” 

“ My dear, how absurd! Of course not. Really, Alice, 
you should not jest on such subjects!” cried Mrs. Hamil- 
ton, who had a secret misgiving. “ I shall find an oppor- 
tunity of giving her a hint. ” 

The conversation took place in the carriage, as they were 
waiting for Olive and Mr. Fairfax to come out from the 
Gorge de Trient. They were tired, they did not care to 
see it; but Alan had insisted on taking Olive, declaring it 
was one of the grandest sights in nature. He went in first, 
and she followed, half shivering, and shrinking from the 
damp gloom and cold. 

W alking on the ledge that overhangs the rapid foaming 
water between the vast riven sides of the gigantic rocks, 
and looking half fearfully upward, she seemed to get a 
sudden chilled, awe-struck sensation. Just half way the 
sides were scooped out, and the water flowed through like a 
lake round the massive fi agment fallen in the midst. No 
sun came down into the darkness, and the rapid waters 
roared like the sound of thunder. Out at the further end 
there was a glimpse of reflected sunshine upon the rugged 
mass, no longer barren, but springing out all over with 
rich green moss and ferns, branches and meadow-sweet. 
And down far below her feet came the torrent, boiling, 
hissing and seething over the great stones. 

Mr. Fairfax had gone on in front, and Olive, whose 
nerves were terribly unstrung, stopped suddenly on the 
narrow^ ledge, afraid to move forward or back, and uttered 
a faint cry. He turned quickly at the sound, and cam® to 
her. 

As she felt his strong, firm clasp, she was conscious of a 
deep satisfied feeling of trust and safety, and clung to him. 
He looked down eagerly at her for a moment, and then 


320 ' 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


turned away as quickly, the dark red color flushing to his 
brow. But she noticed nothing — it never once entered her 
mind to conceive that this man was in love with her. 

In the evening, as Olive sat in the garden by the lake, 
her mother came and took the chair next her. 

Alice rose. 

‘‘ I am going out to see if I can get some views of the 
lake," she said. 

“ My dear, I can not think of your going alone," uttered 
Mrs. Hamilton. “I dare say Olive will spare you Hor- 
ton. " 

“Will you accept me as a companion?" asked Mr. Fair- 
fax, getting up. 

“ I don^t like to trouble you, and Horton will do very 
well," responded Alice, with feigned reluctance. 

“ I shall be delighted — ^pray let me go with you;"’"’ and 
the two went off together. 

Now that Mrs. Hamilton was in possession of the oppor- 
tunity which she and Alice had preconcerted, she felt a 
considerable difficulty in availing herself of it. 

Olive w^as looking dreamily at the sunset reflected on the 
waters. 

“ How very kind Mr. Fairfax is!" commenced her moth- 
er at last. 

“ Very,^'’ said Olive, rousing herself. 

“ I never met a man so thoughtful,^^ continued Mrs. 
Hamilton, “ or so gentle in his manner. I was quite 
afraid of him when I saw him first, and thought him so 
very cold and proud." 

“ I never found him so, mamma." 

“ No, I dare say not, dear; his manner seems quite dif- 
ferent to you. I wonder what made him join us here?" 

“ I suppose he wanted to see Switzerland again, and did 
not care about traveling alone," Olive replied. 

“ It occurred to me — of course I do not know that it is 
so, but don^’t you think he admires Alice?" 

Olive started, and then sighed. 

“ Perhaps — I never thought of that.^'’ 

“ It is quite likely, you know, dear; and he used to visit 
at your house in London a good deal when she was there, 
did he not?^"’ 

Olive did not like to say, “Not more than at any other 
time/^ so she was silent. 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 321 

“ DonH you thinks dear/^ continued her mother, pres- 
ently, “ it would be as well to give them a little more op- 
portunity of being alone together?^^ 

A pain shot through Olive's heart — one she hardly un- 
derstood or realized. Well, it was her fate; this man's 
presence had made her a little happier, a little more con- 
tented, and he was to be taken away too. 

“ I am very selfish," she thought. ‘‘ I never dreamed 
of his caring for Alice," and 5ie sighed heavily. “I 
think so, mamma," she answered. am going to my 
room now — wish them good-night for me. ' ' 

And as she went slowly in, her sad face and graceful 
movements making more than one man look after her, Mrs. 
Hamilton felt a pang of self-reproach for the part she had 
Just played. 

“I wonder if she is just a little in love without know- 
ing it herself?" she thought; “I am certain he is very 
fond of her." 

When Mr. Fairfax returned with Alice, he looked round 
for Lady Fabian. 

“ Olive has gone to her room," said Mrs. Hamilton, an- 
ticipating his question — ‘‘ she is so very tired, I am going 
in myself now; I have some letters to write. Don't stay 
out too late, Alice dear." 

When she was alone with Alan, Alice began to be quite 
enthusiastic about the scenery. Was it not lovely and ro- 
mantic? — it made her feel quite poetical. Had Mr. Fairfax 
ever written any poetry? 

Alan, while making courteous responses to her remarks, 
was inwardly wondering at the difference between the two 
sisters, and pondering in his mind how it was possible for 
one to be so utterly uninteresting and commonplace, while 
the other was full of spirituality and refinement. 

Alice felt annoyed to think that her , companion made so 
little use of the brilliant opportunity that was given him. 
Any of the men of her general acquaintance would have 
lapsed into the sentimental or the complimentary long be- 
fore this. Her conversational powers began to flag. 

“ I am so longing to see the birthplace of Tell," she said 
at last. 1 do hope we shall get as far." 

“ I have lost all interest in the hero of my boyhood," 
laughed Alan, ‘‘ since I find it is highly improbable that 
he ever existed." 

n 


322 


FEOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


“Oh! I don^t believe it, Mr. Fairfax, do you? I think 
iFs quite shocking the way they try to turn history upside- 
down nowadays. Why, they actually say Henry the 
Eighth was a good husband!^*’ 

“ Oh, yes, and Xantippe was not a shrew. Joan of Arc 
was not burned at the stake, but was married and had chil- 
dren! Galileo was not an ill-used man; and, to crown all, 
Nero did not murder his wife or his mother, or Britanni- 
cus, or even play the fiddle when Eome was burning !^‘^ 

“ I^m sure I don^t know what one is to believe," said 
Alice, pathetically. 

“ The past does not affect me very much,^^ answered 
Mr. Fairfax; “ there is more to trouble one in the present 
and the future,^ ^ and he sighed. 

“ Yes,^^ assented Alice, trying to look sad; “ there is a 
great deal of trouble in the world — ^like poor Olivet for 
instance. Oh, Mr. Fairfax, IVe never liked to mention the 
subject to you, but do you think there is any chance of that 
bad, wicked man coming back to her?^^ 

Something in her tone grated inexpressibly on Alan. 

“ I can not venture an opinion,^'’ he answered; “per- 
haps, after a time, when he finds what angelic forbearance 
and goodness your sister is capable of, he may come to see 
how — " he paused, unable to continue. 

“ But don^t you think it^s a great pity she does not give 
him up, as we all want her to do? It is such a dreadful 
disgrace to us, and it is evident he canT care a bit for her. 
1 dare say she tried him a little — poor, dear Olive always 
was peculiar — indeed, she did not quite get on with us at 
home always. 

Alan felt so angry and impatient, he had all the inclina- 
tion to get up and walk away; but he controlled himself, 
and only said : 

“ I never saw any one who so completely fulfilled my 
notion of what a woman should be as Lady Fabian — so 
loving, so tender-hearted, so utterly feminine. Any man 
or woman who could not love and appreciate her beautiful 
nature is not worthy to live with her."^^ 

He uttered these words in a voice of suppressed passion, 
and a flush overspreading his face; for once he was carried 
out of his strong, self-contained resolve, and Alice read his 
feelings with a certain malicious displeasure. 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 333 

She flung her shaft at him with feminine intention, 
knowing the eak joint in the harness. 

It is so sad/^ she said, softly, “ to think so much love 
should be wasted on one so worthless. She cries after him 
day and night. I think if she lived to be a hundred she 
would never have one thought for any one else. 

‘'I believe you are right, he answered, bitterly; and 
she rose and wished him good-night. 

All Olivers sadness seemed to come back in the next few 
days. Alan saw with pain that she avoided him; she never 
sat alone with him now as she had done at first, or poured 
her confidences into his willing ears. She would not even 
accept his arm to climb a steep ascent; she seemed to pre- 
fer the company of her mother, and somehow he was al- 
ways left to Alice. He could not comprehend it, and it 
stung him bitterly. Had she conceived a suspicion of his 
real feelings for her, and was that the cause of her avoid- 
ance — he who had placed such guard over himself, and 
never by word or sign given the least indication of any sen- 
timent warmer than friendship? He felt that his conduct 
had been unimpeachably honorable. He had utterly for- 
borne to censure her husband, or to recommend her to sep- 
arate herself from him; he h^ never made the faintest at- 
tempt to wean her affections from Sir George to himself— 
never sought the advancement of his own interest in any 
way. Could her mother or sister have put some idea into 
her head? He almost hated them for the yery thought. 
Finally, when day after day, under some pretext or other, 
he found himself constantly alone with Alice, the real truth 
flashed across him. Then he avoided her persistently, and 
returned to Oliver’s side, which he never left so long as she 
was present. Lady Fabian saw by this time that her sac- 
rifice had been utterly vain, and Alice saw it too, and was 
furious. Gradually the old state of things revived, and 
Olive became as dependent on Alan as before. He did all 
in his power to wean her from her sadness, he talked to 
her, argued with her, showed her the bright side of life, 
and the blessings she really had, although the constant rec- 
ollection of her trouble made her unconscious of them. 
“ I know how hard it is,"^ he said, gently, ‘‘ to be grateful 
for blessings, when one curse seems to have turned all the 
sweet waters into bitterness; but you have so much that 
ought to make you glad. Think of all the poor miserable 


324 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


objects we have seen in the last week — ugly, squalid, de- 
formed, afflicted in every way. Is it nothing to be grate- 
ful for that you are young and pretty; that you have health, 
and money, and love?^^ 

“Not love!^^ cried Olive, bitterly; “ the absence of that 
is the hardest thing for me to bear/^ 

“ Not love!^^ half broke from his lips; but Olive did not 
hear, and he checked himself. “ You have been loved, 
you are loved, you will be loved again plenty of times before 
you die,^^ he said, gently. 

“ If only my little child had lived,^^ she said, piteously, 
and the great tears gathering and falling from her eyelids. 
“ Oh, Mr. Fairfax, it is very wrong, but I do hate that 
woman so! she has been the cause of all the great misery I 
ever felt.^^ 

“ I dare say it is wrong, answered Alan, in a low, sup- 
pressed voice; “ but God knows I hate her more than I 
ever hated my own greatest enemy!” 

He looked at Olive with a great tenderness springing up 
in his heart. Those eyes, bearing the traces of so many 
bitter tears, touched him keenly. If only he had a right to 
love and comfort her — only the power to quench the bitter- 
ness of her sorrow, and to bring back the sunshine into the 
poor hollow cheeks. “ I never thought it was so hard to 
live without being loved, he said to himself that night as 
he sat smoking at his open window. “ What would I 
give only to have the right to soothe her and make her feel 
there was some one in the world who loved her, heart and 
soul. I suppose it will never be my lot to be loved dearly,^ ^ 
and he sighed heavily. “ I would give the ten best years of 
my life to know she cared for me. Poor darling!” 

Meantime Alice was bitterly angered and indignant at 
the failure of her plan. From being in love with Mr. 
Fairfax, she grew to hate him for his coldness and evident 
preference for her sister. She threw out innuendoes to 
her mother, that he was really too marked in his attentions 
to Olive, that in her very equivocal position it was a great 
pity for her to conduct herself in a manner to excite re- 
mark; but Mrs. Hamilton refused to say anything either 
to her or to him. 

“ My dear, you are laboring under some mistake. Mr. 
Fairfax might be her brother for the unobtrusiveness of his 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 325 

attentions co her; and I am sure, poor dear, she never 
thinks of him in any other light/^ 

Alice was too angry to let the matter drop, and resolved 
to take things into her own hands. So she went to Lady 
Fabian^ s room and knocked at the door. 

“ Come in, " said Olive. 

She was sitting by the open window in a white muslin 
wrapper, her rich brown hair unbound and falling all about 
her shoulders. A book lay in her lap, but it was evident 
she had been thinking, not reading. Alice, whose mind 
was certainly a small and mean one, felt additionally pro- 
voked at seeing her sister look so pretty and refined. 

“ I suppose you know you can be seen quite plainly. from 
the garden,'’^ she said, with some venom — “ I passed the 
window Just now. There is Mr. Fairfax looking up. 

Olive rose hastily, blushing. 

“ Indeed, I never thought of it. Horton just washed 
my hair, and I was sitting in the sun to dry it.-’^ And she 
sat down again some paces from the window. 

Alice was silent for a few moments, and then she said, 
in a harsh voice: 

“ When is Mr. Fairfax going back to England?" 

“ I donT know, indeed, Alice. I hope not yet.^^ 

“ You hope not?^^. remarked Alice, interrogatively. 

“He is so kind and good, and it is so much pleasanter 
to have a gentleman traveling with one." 

“ I think it is a great bore for any one to tack them- 
selves on to you, whether you will or not, and go about 
everywhere with one."^^ 

“ Alice," cried Lady Fabian, surprised, “ I thought you 
liked him so much." 

•“ For the matter of that, I neither like nor dislike him,^^ 
answered Alice, pettishly; “ but I think it is a pity that he 
should go about every where with you, in a manner to excite 
remark. 

Olive turned very white. 

“ What do you mean, Alice she asked, in a suppressed 
voice. 

“ Why, I think," said her sister, with that profound in- 
difference to giving pain that one sees and wonders at in 
some women — “ I think Just now you ought to be so very 
quiet. " 

“ I donH quite understand,^ ^ murmured Olive. 


- 326 


FEOM OLYMPUS TO HADES, 


‘‘ Of course/^ continued Alice, venomously, “ every one 
can sec at once that Mr. Fairfax is in love with you."’^ 

She was obliged to admit that, to barb the shaft properly. 
‘‘ In love with me?’^ echoed Olive, mechanically. 

“ Yes, in love with you. Of course, we know men do 
take great advantages when women have no one to protect 
them, and, of course, people would only shrug their shoul- 
ders, and say he was trying to console you.-’^ She stopped, 
frightened at the glance Olive cast upon her. “ I don’t 
suppose there’s any harm in it,'’^ she went on, quickly, 
only if you haven’t noticed it yourself, which seems 
rather odd, it was just as well for me to tell you.” 

Lady Fabian shivered. 

“ Thank you,” she said, very quietly. Would you 
mind leaving me a little now — I am going to lie down?” 
Alice went out, rather frightened at what she had done. 


CHAPTER XL. 

‘‘ GOOD-BYE I” 

“ Farewell,” 

For in that word — that fatal word — howe’er 
We promise — hope — beheve — there breathes despair. 

Corsair. 

Olive sat quite still where her sister left her, with 
clasped hands and fixed, sightless eyes. What new horror 
was this that had come upon her? She giving rise to re- 
marks — people shrugging their shoulders at her, who had 
never had one though except for her husband! Was Fate 
so implacable that it would not allow her the small conso- 
lation of friendship in her trouble? Was she to be quite 
alone for the rest of her life, debarred from all sympathy, 
all kindly interest? Well, better so than any one else 
should believe her capable of harboring a thought of any 
but her husband — that any one should ever be able to utter 
one doubt of her steadfast truth and love. She did not 
for one moment give credence to Alice’s story that Mr. 
Fairfax was in love with her; but if the world could hint 
such a thing, that was enough — it should be put a stop to 
at once. She believed him to be animated by a kind, gen- 
erous feeling in all he did for her; she felt sure that he 
would be as keenly pained by the suspicion of any other 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


327 


motive as she was. But he must leave them at once; and 
then she buried her face in her hands, and sobbed as if her 
heart would break. It was so bitterly hard to lose this one 
creature in the world who understood and felt for her. But 
if George came back, she murmured to herself, and it were 
in the power of any one to breathe a doubt of her truth to 
him, how far harder that would be. Yes, he must go. 
She would tell him why, frankly and fairly, and he would 
understand, and go at once. She would wait until the even- 
ing, and speak then. 

“Mr. Fairfax, she whispered, after dinner, “ I want 
you to come out with me. I will meet you at the door in 
half an hour — it will be dusk then.-’^ 

He assented, wondering a little at so unusual a request, 
and strolled into the porch of the hotel. Presently she 
came out, and they walked along in silence for some time. 

“ Will you take my arm?'^ he said, gently. 

“ No, thank you,^^ she answered, in a nervous, excited 
tone, quickening her pace. 

He waited until she should speak. They passed the long 
row of hotels, brilliantly lighted, with groups standing 
talking in the door- ways, and they came out into the quiet 
country road that faced the range of mountains. Their 
white peaks were faintly visible, for the twilight was quick- 
ly merging into moonlight. He looked furtively at her, 
and noted that her lips were quivering, and that a bright 
hectic color flushed her cheeks. It flashed across him in 
a moment that she had heard from her husband. 

He laid a gentle, detaining hand upon her arm. 

“You must not walk too far — you will be tired. Tell 
me what it is that agitates you. 

She stopped, and looked for a moment in his face, and 
then she cast her eyes down, and her fingers played, trem- 
blingly, with the lace of her mantilla. The diamonds on 
her small hand flashed and sparkled in the moonlight, and 
he watched them mechanically, with a vague notion that 
something painful was going to happen to him. 

“ Mr. Fairfax, I don't know how to tell you," she began 
at last, in a pained voice, “ I must say it — you won't mis- 
understand me?" she said, looking up piteously in his 
face, with her lovely, humid eyes. 

“ You know I will not," he answered, in deep, quiet 


328 FEOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 

tones^ that bore no trace of the emotion^at work in his 
breast. He guessed what was coming now. 

“ You will not think me ungrateful — ^you will be quite 
sure that I appreciate all your goodness to me, and that I 
can never thank you enough for it,^^ she pleaded. He 
bent his head in silence. “ I can not tell you all you have 
been to me,^^ she went on quickly. “ I was breaking my 
heart when you came; I shall suffer again horribly when you 
are gone — her voice faltered — “ you are a link between 
me and the past. I can talk to you about Mm, and you 
sympathize with and understand me, and do not blame 
him. Oh! he may be wrong," she cried, • passionately, 
‘‘ but he is everything to me. 

Alan^s heart was wrung as he looked at her wan face, 
and saw the big tears glittering in the moonlight, every 
word she uttered was a stab to him, but he suffered even 
more for her suffering. 

“You won’t misunderstand me,^^ she went on presently, 
in a low voice, “ and you won’t think I misunderstand you 
for a moment. I know so well that you feel for me — ^you 
are grieved for me, you would do anything in the world to 
help and comfort me, just because you are noble and gen- 
erous, and because you know that I am weak, and helpless, 
and unhappy. I should despise myself if ever I were to 
let what any one said influence me to think anything else; 
I should expect you to despise me too. 

A sudden, passionate yearning thrilled in his veins to 
tell her that he did love her with all his heart — that he 
loved her, expecting nothing, hoping for nothing; but he 
checked it as quickly. He dared not trust himself to speak. 

“ They tell me," faltered Olive, wondering that he 
spoke no word — “ they tell me people might notice your 
being so much with me — that they might put a wrong con- 
struction on our being always together. I would sooner 
die," she sobbed, “than any one should have it in their 
power to whisper a word of doubt of me to George. 

A bitter pain gnawed Alan’s heart. It was all for 
George— not a single thought for him. 

“You are quite right," he said, at last, in a calm voice. 
“ I will go to-morrow.” 

“ You are quite sure,” she asked wistfully, “ that I 
understand exactly what you feel for me?” 


PBOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


329 


‘‘ Quite sure/^ he answered, quietly, though a thousand 
mocking demons seemed to laugh scornfully in his breast. 

‘‘ And — and — ^you are not offended at my telling you 
this^^^ she pleaded. 

‘‘ I shall never be offended at anything you say or do so 
long as I live, " he answered, in a strange, uncertain voice. 

‘‘And when I am back in England, you will come and 
see me sometimes 

“ Whenever you care to see me, send me one line, and I 
will come to you at once.^^ 

“How kind you are!^^ Olive said presently, with a sigh. 
“ Ah! how happy your wife would be! I wonder you were 
never married !^^ 

“ I shall never marry,^^ he answered, trying to smile. 

“ I suppose it is better not to care very much for any 
one,^^ uttered Ohve, wearily. 

“ Let us go back now,^^ exclaimed Mr. Fairfax, hastily; 
“ you will be so tired. " 

They turned and went home to the hotel, scarcely speak- 
ing a word by the way. When they reached the gate, she 
held out her hand, and he put it to his lips, kissing it with 
a cold, passionless kiss. 

“ Good-night,-’^ he said slowly — “ good-bye. 

“ Good-bye,’^ she whispered, softly; “ I shall never for- 
get your kindness as long as I live."’^ 

When she was gone in, Alan stood leaning against the 
gateway. There was nothing in the proud, impassive face 
to denote what was working in his mind, but that hour 
was the bitterest of all his life. 

He left by the first boat in the morning, without think- 
ing it necessary to leave any written farewell or message 
for Mrs. and Miss Hamilton. Of course they would under- 
stand why he was gone; it was they, no doubt, who had 
persuaded Lady Fabian to dismiss him. 

It was a glorious morning, full of sunshine, as he stepped 
on board the lake steamer. There was scarcely a ripple on 
the water; everything looked green, fresh, and bright — a 
perfect day for Swiss scenery. Mr. Fairfax was leaning 
his arm over the side of the boat, looking down into the 
water, not seeing or noting anything, but utterly absorbed 
in his own thoughts. He took no heed of the lovely villa 
gardens, or the picturesque chd,lets, at which enthusiastic 
tourists were leveling their glasses; he did not even hear 


330 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


the noisy adieus of a band of students who were singing 
their “ Lied des Abschieds^^ to companions on the shore, 
or the insinuating voice of a woman, who wanted to sell 
him onyxes and mock amethysts. Well, it was well, per- 
haps, that he should think a little now; he had banished 
reflection too much during the last fortnight. He had 
hardly stopped to think that he was nothing to her — never 
would be anything to her — during those happy days when 
he had been able to look at her dear face, and hear her 
sweet, low-toned voice from morning till night. So long 
as he had been beside her, making her happier, listening 
to her troubles, he had not been forced to realize the wide 
gulf of separation that lay between them; but now — now 
it was all at an end forever; he would never have the poor 
satisfaction of rendering her small loving services again. 
After the thoughts that had been put into her head, she 
would not send for him or write to him any more; those 
silly, malicious gossips had placed a barrier of constraint 
between them that would never be broken now. Perhaps, 
in years to come, when Sir George had at last recognized 
the value of the jewel he had tlirown away — when the 
scandal had blown over, and they were once more at 
GabriePs Wood with their children round them — perhaps 
he would be warm friends with her again, as in the old 
time; and that pure, true-hearted creature would heap all 
her love on the man who had cruelly wronged her, and 
have scarcely a thought of the one who would have been 
willing to sacrifice anything in the world to her. Always 
so in life’s lottery — the man who is indiiferent alike to 
failure and success draws the rich prize; the beggar, who 
has ventured his last shilling, brings out the blank. 

Mr. Fairfax did not move until the boat touched the 
pier; then he stepped mechanically into the train, and 
leaned back, closing his eyes. When it reached Berne, he 
was told he would have to wait there four hours, and he 
sauntered out into the town. He strolled about the quaint 
old streets, with their grotesque fountains and statues, 
their houses built on arches, with picturesque, crimson- 
cushioned balconies, and looked at the odd clocks and 
painted sign-boards, and the ugly, ill-shaped women filling 
their burnished copper pans. Then he turned wearily into 
the great hotel; and, ascending the steps, was startled by 
the sight of a familiar face. 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


331 


“Mr. Hamilton he exclaimed. 

The lawyer wrung his hand. 

“ Are they here?^^ he asked, hastily. 

“No; I left them at Interlachen this morning. 

“ Have you heard said Mr. Hamilton, in an agitate^ 
voice. 

“ Heard what?’^ asked Alan, in surprise. 

“Come with me," and the lawyer drew him into an 
empty room. 

“ That poor fellow is drowned. I am going to see my 
poor child. 

“Not — ^not George cried Alan, stunned as if by a 
sudden blow. 

“ Poor fellow! — poor fellow! — yes. On his way back to 
England. How shall I ever break this terrible news to my 
unhappy girl?^^ 

In the face of this new and terrible calamity Alan felt 
paralyzed. “It will kill her," he thought; “she will 
never hoi I up her head again. And then all the old love 
that he had felt in bygone years for the handsome, frank 
young fellow came in a flood across his heart, and he hid 
his face in his hands and groaned. 

There was a long silence between the two men, and then 
at last Mr. Fairfax looked up and asked in a stifled voice : 

“ How did it happen?" 

For answer Mr. Hamilton drew out his pocket-book, and 
took from it a letter, which he handed to Alan. It ran 
thus: 

“ Sir, — It is with deep regret that I am compelled to 
communicate to you a most sad and painful piece of intel- 
ligence. From the only letter we were able to And con- 
taining any reference, I presume you to be Sir George 
Fabian’s wife’s father, and I hasten to apprise you of the 
most lamentable and untimely death of that unhappy gen- 
tleman by drowning. He was gallantly attempting to save 
the life of one of the other passengers, a most promising 
young man of seventeen, who fell overboard, and for 
whom he seemed to have conceived a great liking. We 
lowered a boat at once, and thought to have saved them 
both, but we imagine that Sir George must have been seized 
with cramp, for when the boat was within flfty yards of 
him he uttered a cry and sunk like a stone. We picked 


332 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


up the poor young gentleman^, who died, however, of ex- 
haustion some hours afterward, but have not been able to 
recover Sir George^s body, and were forced to give up the 
search. All the deceased gentleman^ s effects are untouched, 
and will remain so until I receive your commands. I have 
occasion to be in London in a few days, and shall be happy 
to wait upon and give you any further sad details you may 
wish to hear. 

‘‘ I am, sir, your obedient servant, 

“ James Hakt, 

“ Captain of the ‘ Ramrod. ^ 

Alan could scarcely read for the mist before his eyes. 
He laid the letter down with a great sigh. 

If I could only have died for him, to have spared her 
all this misery,^ ^ he thought. 

“ You will not go back with me?’^ asked Mr. Hamilton. 

Alan shook his head. 

I could not be of any use.^^ He shrunk from witness- 
ing or even hearing of her pain. 

I have no right to ask it of you,^^ began the lawyer, 
with some hesitation, “ but I am so terribly shaken by the 
last blow, I hardly feel up to making all the necessary 
arrangements for getting them to England as quickly and 
privately as possible. You have done so much for us 
already. 

‘‘ Say no more,^^ uttered Mr. Fairfax, briefly; “ if I can 
be of use to you I will go.^^ 

And looking at Mr. Hamilton, he observed, what he had 
not seen before, that he looked quite old and worn. 

When Mrs. Hamilton came down to breakfast on the 
morning of Mr. Fairfaxes departure, she looked in some 
surprise at his vacant place. 

I never knew him late before,^^ she remarked. 

“ He is gone, mamma,^^ said Olive, quietly. 

Alice colored vividly, and Mrs. Hamilton glanced at 
Olive in amazement. 

“ Gone, Olive — ^gone where 

“ To England, I believe, mamma. 

“ Gone to England, and without saying good-bye. Olive 
— Alice — what is all this mystery 

“ I asked him to go last night. 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


333 


“ "What extraordinary freak made you do that, pray?" 
asked Mrs. Hamilton, crossly. “ Really, Olive, you are 
very strange in your ways."^^ 

“ There is nothing at all strange in this, mamma. I 
suppose you know what Alice told me yesterday?^^ 

^Oh! pray donT put it off on me!^'’ cried Alice. 

Lady Fabian looked up quickly at her sister. 

‘‘ Alice, do you mean that mamma does not know what 
you came to my room to tell me?" 

“I know nothing at all,^^ said Mrs. Hamilton, com- 
pletely mystified. 

‘‘ Then it was all an invention on your part,^^ exclaimed 
Olive, with strange bitterness in her intonations. 

‘‘ What have you been saying, Alice?" asked her mother, 
angrily. . 

I only told Olive what everybody with the slightest 
discernment must have seen long ago,^’ returned Alice, 
sulkily, “ that Mr. Fairfax was in love with her; and then, 
of course, she flies off and does some absurdly rash thing, 
which nobody ever dreamed of. Flew into a rage with the 
poor man, perhaps, for being in love with her, and packed 
him off at a moments notice. 

Mrs. Hamilton look at at her favorite daughter with most 
unusual anger. 

“ Do not attempt to lay the blame on any one but your- 
self,^^ she exclaimed; “ it was nothing in the world but 
spite and jealousy on your part. I only wonder how Olive 
could be so foolish as to believe a word you said. " 

‘ ‘ Then, mamma, " asked Olive, quietly, “was it not 
true that people were making me and Mr. Fairfax the sub- 
ject of remark?" 

“ Certainly not, my dear.^^ 

Olive was silent, but the tears came up into her eyes, 
brimmed over, and fell into her lap as she bent her head to 
hide them. Then she rose and left the room. 

About fi^e o^ clock Mr. Hamilton and Mr. Fairfax ar- 
rived at the hotel together. Olive was in the sitting-room 
alone when her father entered. She sprung to meet him 
with a glad cry: 

“ Oh, papa! — is that you?^^ 

“ Yes, darling,^ ^ and he bent down and kissed her. 

“ Papa, how you tremble! are you ill? Oh, papa, what is 
it? Has George come back?^^ 


334 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


‘‘No, dear — He looked so strangely at her that 
she was frightened. 

“ DonH keep me in suspense/^ she cried. “ Tell me 
the worst at once. 

“ He will never come back to you any more, dear,^^ said 
her father, his face looking old and gray tvith pain. 

She stood quite still, as if the Gorgon head had turned 
her suddenly to stone. 

“Is he dead?^^ she said at last, with a strange, un- 
natural voice. 

Her father^s lips uttered a faint “ Yes.^^ 

“0 God!^^ she cried, a terrible look coming over her 
face. “ Dead! and I thought no greater misery could 
come upon me than I have suffered already. Dead!^^ and 
with a strange wild sob she fell at her father’s feet. 


CHAPTER XLL 

“to supper and be strohg.’^ 

Too bright and fair 
To let wild passion write 
‘ One wrong wish there. 

Moore. 

I AM very much afraid 'that in these latter days we Brit- 
ish folk, who have all along had a certain stout insular 
pride in our own commonplaceness, are in danger of falling 
to copy Continental manners, which suit neither our nat- 
ural phlegm nor feeling. There is no doubt that the 
literature of the day is veering round to the false senti- 
mentality and prurient style of thought that has so long 
stimulated the sated palates of our warmer-blooded neigh- 
bors over the water. We are beginning rather to like the 
notion that we have “ wild, passionate, willful hearts,” 
that won’t be controlled by rules or laws, by decency or 
order, but must take spasmodic flights, and have spas- 
modic desires, and know no via wer/Za between the Olym- 
pus of rapture and the Hades of despair. We are begin- 
ning, perhaps almost imperceptibly to ourselves as yet, to 
think of marriage as a certain vulgar necessity, and to look 
on a real, hearty conjugal love as exceptional and ill-bred. 
The training is not good for our young girls, who ought to 
have, and have naturally, fresh, loving hearts, ready to 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


335 


spring out responsive to meet the power that calls them 
forth. It is a very bad schooling for them to be taught to 
fancy that they have some wonderful depths of passion and 
feeling that would make it impossible for ordinary men to 
understand or sympathize with them. The impassioned 
phrases, ‘‘intense yearnings,^ ^ “cravings of the human 
heart,'’ “ anguished bitterness,^^ may seem only clap-trap 
to us older, wiser folk, but they are calculated to rouse 
very spurious sensations in minds easily influenced. Is 
love to be changed into sin and passion? Are we quite to 
forget and ignore that there is anything beautiful, anything 
divine in the love of two people who trust one another per- 
fectly? Is it a proof of a great soul and a godlike capacity 
for loving that a man or woman should turn pettishly and 
contemptuously away from the wife or husband whom they 
have voluntarily taken, to sigh and entertain unlawful 
cravings after some other object, perhaps far less worthy, 
whom for the time being they have set up to be the wor- 
ship of their “ willful passionate hearts?^ ^ Novelists are 
wise in their generation in not showing how those wild, 
criminal loves die natural deaths. They are only what 
they are so long as unattainable. If it is diflScult some- 
times to have perfect sympathy and toleration where all 
outward circumstances are favorable and lives run smooth, 
what must it be when self-respect and mutual esteem are 
gone, and the world^s verdict is echoed bitterly back in the 
hearts that were once so proud of their unconquerable 
yearnings and their willful disregard of consequences? It 
reads magnificently all that first part — the tears come into 
our eyes, we heave a great sigh, and fanc}'' what dej)ths of 
passion and sacrifice our own natures are capable of, and 
rather wish we had something more exciting than that 
healthy, unsentimental, legitimate object opposite to lavish 
all the" treasures of our lofty affection upon. 

A woman who has once indulged the vein of spurious 
passion, however harmlessly in action, has dug the grave, 
for all pure, womanly love from that day forth. The ob- 
ject will be always changing too — she will fancy herself 
adoring first one man, then another, who devotes himself 
to making sentimental speeches to her; and at last one 
day she will find herself high and dry upon the shore, 
faded, wrinkled, unattractive; and men will be whispering 
flatteries before her eyes to younger, fresher, prettier worn- 


336 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


en, and laughing, perhaps, at her coquetries, so charming 
once, so ludicrous now. Honore de Balzac has very gal- 
lantly championed the lean sexe from thirty to forty. He 
has tried to make us think there is nothing so seductive as 
a siren who has counted six lusters, that the power of such 
a one over men^s hearts is irresistible. Creeping gradu- 
ally toward that fascinating period of existence, one is dis- 
posed to accept a soi-distant truism that one would have 
laughed to score ten years ago; but one has still a misgiv- 
ing whether men — men worth having, I mean — do not find 
a greater attraction in the ieauU de diable than in all the 
wealth of superior tact and savoir-faire. Ah me! what 
terrible bitterness for the woman who has nothing happier 
to fall back upon than the remembrance of those vain, 
foolish triumphs! To have been pretty and admired, to 
have awakened fleeting passions in the breasts of a few men 
— the memory is not worth much when no one cares any 
longer to look into our eyes or listen to our voices. That 
time comes to most women before, or, at least, by the time 
they have reached just half their appointed life-time. 
Thirty-five years to five without love! If some of our 
clever, able writers would only show us the real romance 
of life — the happiness we might enjoy if only our hearts 
were pure and contented, and we checked the foolish, un- 
wise longings! Can a fairer picture be drawn than this — 
of a man and woman who love each other, who have per- 
fect faith in each other, who bear each other^s burdens? 
They have no secrets, there is no sorrow too bitter to be 
borne, no grief that can not be lightened by the loved voice 
and the tender, caressing hand; and as they grow old day 
by day and year by year together, loving eyes are not criti- 
cal to note how the silver threads multiply in the glossy 
hair, or the lines deepen round the tender mouth and eyes. 
Of course we are disappointed in each other sometimes — 
are we so perfect ourselves? But if we are bent on finding 
out the good and loving in spite of the faults, we shall 
come nearer a happiness that savors of the divine than all 
the transient passions in the world can make us. They 
may be all-suflacing for Olympian gods and goddesses, who 
are alwa5^s young, always beautiful; but for us poor mortals 
they are but will-o^-the-wisps, leading us on into the quag- 
mires of sin and misery. 

It is not often that self-control and great rectitude of 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


337 


principle go hand in hand with strong passions, but it was 
so in the case of Ethel, Lady Vibart. She had been 
attacked, like many a woman in a similar position, by the 
hydra-headed monster of dullness and commonplace. She 
had felt the void in her life, the disappointment, the yearn- 
ing after some fuller happiness, that all wives must feel 
who have not a very great real love for the men they 
marry, and that some women feel even who have. But 
those vague desires did not take her by surprise; she had 
known beforehand they would come, and had armed her- 
self to meet them. So could every woman arm herself if 
she chose, instead of tampering a little with temptation, 
and just indulging thoughts — well it shall only be thoughts. 
Then wistful eyes and pleading tones, and just such a 
little soft sigh, as if those tiny betrayals were not like 
breaths of ether flame to set men^s hearts on fire. A wom- 
an may do as much wrong by being silent as by uttering 
the most passionate words, and most people are tried at 
some period of their lives. When Lady Vibart had married, 
Captain Huntingford kept sedulously out of her way — 
went to the bad, somehow, for some time; and then being 
too much of a gentleman at heart to fall utterly away, he 
had suddenly seen his folly, pulled himself up short, looked 
life in the face, and resolved bravely to fashion his future 
for himself, and make something better of it than he had 
done of the past. 

“ I wish you would marry, Vivian, said his mother. 
“ You might do so well. 

“ Marry, mother?^ ^ he answered, smiling a little, and 
yet with some bitterness lurking in the corner of his mouth. 
‘‘ Marry, and do well? I^’m afraid matrimony is not such 
an El Dorado for us as you women seem to find it. " 

Lady Huntingford sighed. 

“T can not think why men are so dreadfully averse to 
marrying nowadays. Girls are just as pleasing and attract- 
ive as ever they were; but really, to hear you all talk, one 
would think marriage was as fearful a risk as going out to 
slay a dragon. Even the papers begin to take it up. 

“ My dear mother,^ ^ said Vivian, a little wearily, ‘‘if 
every paper in the United Kingdom devoted a column to 
the subject every day for a month, it would not he the 
means of adding one Benedick to the country. Men fall in 
love just the same as they always did, I presume, and 


338 


PROM OLYMPUS TO HAULS. 


marry when they do, if they can get the woman to have 
them,^^ he added, bitterly. It’s all nonsense about dress, 
and extravagance, and the expectations of the young ladies 
of the present day, and the papers only take it up as a stop- 
gap when they want something to write about. What on 
earth does Jones or Brown, who pen those very stirring 
articles, care whether men, as a rule, marry, or go down in 
solitude to their early graves (those statistics are awful 
things for us bachelors) as long as they get their own 
daughters off their hands? Don’t think, mother, that I 
wage war against the only legitimate code of bliss; in spite 
of every tract or proverb that ever was written or preached, 
I don’t believe there can be anything more divinely happy 
than to marry the woman you love.” 

His mother looked suddenly askance at him as he spoke; 
but he was gazing far away over her head, with a strange 
unwonted moistness in his blue eyes and a quivering tension 
of the lips. She had never heard how insanely he had 
been in love with stately Miss Anson, and though she now 
conjectured the existence of some secret passion, she was 
too discreet to ask any question it might pain him to an- 
swer. 

Lady Vibart had been married a year without seeing her 
old lover, or even hearing his name mentioned. But when 
she was in town during the winter, he reappeared in society, 
and she occasionally met him at the houses of common 
friends. She had not forgotten him, as she had fancied; 
she discovered that soon enough. To all outward seeming 
they met with that unaffected frankness and heartiness 
that is so easy and natural to people who have been only 
friends, so unutterably difficult to those who have once 
been lovers. A few weeks went on, until one day Lady 
Vibart woke sharply and suddenly to the consciousness of 
her real feelings for Captain Huntingford. He was to 
lunch with them, and she was standing at the drawing-room 
window awaiting his arrival. It was already ten minutes 
past the appointed hour, and she had glanced a dozen times 
at the clock. She took out her watch to compare the time, 
then she sat down on the sofa with a book of poetry. Another 
moment she started up to look out of the window, then 
walked to and fro impatiently. In passing, she cast a 
glance at herself in the long sheet of glass, and pushed the 
hair a little further off her broad low brow. Then she 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 339 

looked up and down the street with a vexed frown on her 
fair face. 

“ So unlike him to keep one waiting/^ she said to her- 
self. “ I hope nothing has happened to him/^ and her 
cheeks grew hot and her heart beat at the bare thought. 

Ten minutes later, and she had given him up petulantly, 
when the door was opened and he was announced. But as 
she turned with feigned indifference to greet him, she gave 
a little start and an involuntary cry. 

‘‘ What is the matter. Captain Huntingford?^^ 

She might well ask; his face looked so white and 
blanched, as if from severe physical pain, and his right 
arm hung nerveless by his side. 

‘‘Nothing — nothing of any consequence, he answered 
lightly. “ Will you excuse my left hand?"^ 

“ What have you done to your arm?^^ she said, speaking 
in tones of such anxiety that it sent the blood thrilling to 
his heart. 

“ Only a little sprain.^ ^ 

“ But why is not your arm bandaged? How did you do 
it?’^ 

“ I was afraid I had already kept you waiting,-’^ and he 
glanced at the clock. 

“ How can you be so foolish she cried in a pained 
voice. “ I shall send for a doctor;^ ^ and she went toward 
the bell. 

“ No, no. Lady Vibart, I beg! It is nothing — indeed, I 
assure you.^^ 

“ And meantime,^^ she said, when she had given her 
commands to the servant — “ meantime I shall perform an 
operation for you myself. 

She took a dainty silk scarf from the sofa as she spoke. 

‘‘ Your arm ought to be supported — it is very wrong to 
let it hang down that way. May I try and move it?^^ 

“ I am ashamed for you to take all this trouble,^^ he 
said, in a low voice, but keenly glad at the thought of her 
touching him. 

He tried to raise his arm toward her, but the extreme 
pain made him wince and turn paler. She bent down to it, 
and as she caught sight of the black, swollen wrist, she 
uttered a little tender cry of pain. 

“ How you must be suffering 

“ No, really — not very mucm^^ 


340 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


“ You ought not to have come at all. It is too bad of 
you to make strangers of us.'^^ 

“If the pain were much worse, it would not keep me 
away from the chance of being with you/^ he answered. 

She had taken his hand very gently between hers, and 
was trying to unfasten the gold sleeve-stud that pressed 
against the bruised flesh. 

“ I know I am hurting you?^^ she said, looking inquir- 
ingly into his face.^^ 

“ I can not even feel you,^^ he declared, stoutly, though 
the slightest touch of her delicate fingers sent a thrill of 
agony through the injured hmb. 

“ How did you do it?^^ 

“ Trying to stop a horse from running over a child. " 

“ And did you?^^ 

“ I broke the force — she only got a kick, and wasn^t 
much hurt.^^ 

“ May I turn your coat-sleeve back.^ I think the only 
way will be to cut this other one.^^ 

As she bent over him, her head close to his, the tender 
touch of her fingers on his arm, he blessed the accident 
with fervor that had brought him all these delicious little 
cares and attentions from proud Ethel. She was a true 
woman in this way, that the sight of suffering brought out 
all the tenderness and pitifulness of her nature — no trouble 
would have seemed too great for her in the alleviation of 
pain or sorrow. She knotted the scarf on his shoulder, 
and then took his hand very gently to place it in the tem- 
porary sling. 

“ I wish I could do something more for you,^^ she uttered 
softly, looking in his face to read if she was hurting him. 

“ Cure it as mothers do their children's hurts,^^ he said, 
in a low, pleading voice. “ Kiss the place, and it will be 
well.^^ . 

I donH know what sudden madness took possession of 
Ethel — whether it was pity, or love, or thoughtlessness, 
but without a word she bent her face and laid a soft kiss 
on the swollen, disfigured wrist. 

“Oh, Ethel,"*^ groaned Vivian, utterly overcome, and 
stretching out his other aim toward her. But she started 
back, her whole face dyed with crimson shame. 

“ Hush!" she exclaimed, imperiously. “ DonH make 
me repent a foolish action too bitterly. 


PROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


341 


At this juncture the door opened, and Lord Vihart en- 
tered, with a frank, unsuspicious face, and his wife felt 
profoundly grateful to him for the interruption. That 
afternoon, when she was alone again, she underwent a tor- 
ment of self-reproach. She hated, she despised herself, 
for having acted on that momentary impulse. Oh! how 
degraded she felt in her own eyes, how utterly humbled and 
mortified! She, who in her pride had believed that no 
temptation could be too strong for her, no weakness, com- 
mon to other women, assail her! She could not trust her- 
self — oh! horrible degrading thought! — ^for the moment 
she had loved him with an utter reckless indifference 
whether he might discover what she felt. It has been truly 
said that the first step toward a fault helps us to fiy from 
it, that a yielding to weakness may mve us strength to con- 
quer it. So it was with Ethel. Her eyes were opened to 
all the folly, the passion, the sins that might follow one 
such little foolish want of control. She must never see 
him again — he would not have the same fear and respect 
for her in the future — he would remember that she had 
been weak once, and he would be always watching, always 
hoping for some sign of wavering in her again. She could 
conquer now — she would. That evening she knelt down 
by her husband ^s side in a mood of softness very rare for 
her. 

‘‘ Ealph, dear,^^ she said coaxingly, “ I am tired of Lon- 
don — I want to go home again. 

‘‘ Home, love?'’^ he exclaimed in surprise, ‘‘ I thought 
you complained so of the dullness; and I have made 
arrangements to stop here until the end of January. You 
must -have forgotten, too, how many engagements we 
have.^^ 

“ I have not forgotten anything, responded Lady 
Vihart, quietly. 

Her husband looked vexed. 

“ It is not like you to be so capricious,^^ he said. “ Of 
course I will do anything you wish, but I think, if you con- 
sider, you will see your request is a little unreasonable.^^ 

‘‘ Ealph, said his wife, taking one of his hands between 
her white, jeweled fingers, “ do you love me?^^ 

He turned and look keenly at her. 

“ I think you have no cause to ask me that, dear,^^ he 
answered, ‘‘have you?^^ 


342 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


“ Then, Ralph, if 1 tell you that it is necessary to my 
happiness, my peace of mind to go away from London at 
once, you will not thwart me?'’'' 

He understood her, and as he took her upturned face in 
his hands his eyes were wet with unshed tears. 

“ My poor child/ ^ he murmured, with pained tenderness 
in his voice, “ I wish for your sake I could die. 

‘‘ DonT say that, Ralph — dear Ralph,^^ cried Ethel, 
sti to the quick as she threw her arms round him. 



“ Who could help loving any one so generous, so good, so 
kind as you? I do love you, dear, donT misjudge me. I 
swear you shall never have cause to doubt me as long as 
we live. And undemonstrative Ethel burst into a pas- 
sionate fit of crying. He laid her proud head against his 
breast, and smoothed her dark hair with tender hands. 

“ God bless you, darling he whispered, ‘‘ I know it.^^ 

They left town two days afterward, and from that time 
forth, Ethel, never allowing a thought of any one to come 
between that faithful, generous heart and her, grew to love 
and appreciate Lord Vibart fully, and was as happy and 
contented as a woman deserves to be who has cast from her 
the glamour of self-deception and false sentiment, and 
chosen the undeviating path of right and justice. 


CHAPTER XLII 


BACK IK BLANKSHIRE. 

I shall be glad of thee, O fairest head, 
Alive, alone, without thee, with thee dead, 
I shall remember while the light lives yet, 
And in the night time I shall not forget. 


Erotion. 


Ohe September afternoon, nearly two years after the 
event narrated in the last chapter. Lady Vibart was sitting 
with her husband and brother in the morning-room at 
Ashworth Park. The son and heir — a splendid child of 
ten months old — ^had just been dismissed with his nurse, for 
Ethel had caught sight of Mr. Fairfax riding up the chase. 

“ What an age it seems since we saw you?’" she ex- 
claimed, as, a few minutes later, he entered the room. 
“ Have you been away from the Abbey again?” 

“ No, but I am turned practical farmer, and have hardly 
had a moment’s leisure for the last six weeks. 


FEOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


343 


I have some news for you/^ interrupted Lady Vibart. 

Guess who is coming to Ashworth?'’^ 

‘‘ Some one I know?^-’ he asked, smiling. 

“ Yes, some one you used to like very much, but have 
quite neglected lately. " 

A dark red flush came over Alan^s face as a dim con- 
jecture framed itself in his mind. 

“ I shall never guess,^^ he answered, fearful lest he had 
been deceived by a false hope. 

“It is Olive Fabian,'’^ rejoined Ethel. “ I shall be so 
glad to have her, but it was with the greatest difficulty I 
persuaded her to come. I promised she should not see any 
strangers, but, of course, you are not included in that 
category. She spoke of you, and seemed to think you had 
forgotten her — it is so long since you went to see her.^^ 

Mr. Fairfax could not think of any answer to make. It 
is easy enough to frame courteous commonplaces when 
one^s heart is not in the matter, but the unruly member 
can be quite as obstinately inert when something is re- 
quired of it as it can be injudiciously forward when quies- 
cence is expedient. 

“ Poor little thing said Grevil, breaking the silence. 
“ Does she seem very unhappy still?^^ 

“ She looks very sad, as if she had cried a great deal; 
but I fancy she is a litte brighter than when I last saw her. 
But how is it possible for any one to get over such a grief, 
if they do nothing but sit and brood over it? I am sure 
the way a great sorrow is generally treated is most unwise 
and injudicious. It is quite expected of people to shut 
themselves up, to go nowhere, and see no one, to have no 
change of thought or relaxation; in fact, if any one on 
whom some terrible affliction has fallen is seen to smile or 
look cheerful, it is assumed at once that they have quite 
forgotten everything, and are shockingly heartless. " 

“ Lady Fabian'’ s is not a nature to forget soon,^’’ said , 
Mr. Fairfax, in a low voice. 

“ Unhappily for her, no,^^ responded Ethel. “ But it 
is time that an effort should be made to get her mind away 
from the past. Fancy, Mr. Fairfax, she is only twenty- 
one, prettier than ever, so graceful and accomplished, and 
she talks of her life being over, all her hopes gone, and can 
see no brightness in the future. 

Alan sighed bitterly. 


344 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


“ I hope she woiiH go about looking awful miserable, 
and sighing/^ interposed Captain Anson. ‘‘ I really could 
not stand it; I should have to be off somewhere. The poor 
old governor makes me quite miserable sometimes with his 
sighs and his long face. I donH think he knows when he 
does it, though. By the way, Fairfax, have you called on 
the new baronet yet?^^ 

“ No,^^ answered Alan,:. curtly. “I can not fancy a 
new master in the old jolace. And fronl what I hear I do 
not think I should care much about his acquaintance.’^ 

“ Oh! he’s really not a bad fellow in his way. Rather 
green, and a little horsy, but I think the lad’s good-heart- 
ed. You can’t imagine how nicely he spoke about poor 
George and his wife, and how glad he would be if she would 
come and stay there, and do anything she liked with the 
place. Of course, he says he never dreamed of such a thing 
happening to him, and he seemed almost more sorry than 
glad at his good luck. He’s got very good taste in horse- 
flesh, and that seems to be quite his weak point. He spoke 
of you, Fairfax, and said he’d heard what a good fellow 
you were, and hoped you’d look him up some day. He 
seemed quite to feel that people would have prejudice 
against him, and look upon him as an interloper, and ‘ ’pon 
my soul,’ he said to me, ‘ I feel just as if I was, you know, 
only what can one do? If poor George had only made a 
will, and left her everything he had to leave, I should have 
been ten times more comfortable; and I’m sure I only wish, 
poor little thing, she’d come and take away everything she 
fancies, or would care to have.’ I didn’t know before that 
she only had her settlement. ” 

“ I do not think she minds that,” said Lady Vibart. 
‘‘ She told me she used to be very fond of show and grand- 
eur when she was happy, but that she does not care the 
least for it now. ” 

Mr. Fairfax looked out over the smooth lawn, away 
through the cedars, and thought how he would like to 
make her happy, and surround her with wealth and lux- 
ury, to give her everything that her heart desired or her 
eyes fancied. 

“ How quiet you are, Fairfax,” said Lord Vibart, who 
had been watching him for some time. ‘‘ You have no 
business to be absent and reflective, now that the crops are 
all in safely.” 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


345 


Alan roused himself with a start. 

‘ ‘ I have been living too much alone/ ^ he exclaimed, 
smiling; “ and really one gets very bearish and unso- 
ciable.^’ 

‘‘I shall set myself to mend your manners/’ smiled 
Ethel; ‘ ‘ but if I do you must promise to come to us often- 
er, or my lessons will not be of much avail.” 

‘‘ It is a bargain/’ responded Alan, only too willing to 
accept any invitation that would give him the opportunity 
of seeing Olive. 

“ Dine with us to-night,” said Lord Vibart. Maske- 
lyne, and Loftus, and Lady Anne are coming, and she was 
always a favorite of yours.” 

Not to-night, thanks. I have promised to dine with 
the 17th in Lendal. ” 

“ To-morrow, then?”’ 

“ To-morrow I am going over to Armytage’s to stay till 
Monday. ” 

“ Then come to us on Monday,” interposed Lady Vib- 
art. “ Lady Fabian arrives on Saturday, and will scarcely 
have recovered her journey before. She does not look 
strong.” 

Thank you, I shall be very glad. ” And after some 
further chat he took his leave. 

He never in his life remembered four days seeming so 
long as those which intervened between the day when he 
was to see Olive again. It was six months since they had 
met, and then she had seemed so bowed down with grief, 
so buried in the past, as to be more hopelessly parted from 
.him than ever. It was a torment to him to see her suffer, 
when he could not lift a finger to alleviate her pain, and 
he fancied, sorrowfully enough, that she would not miss 
his absence. But now it dawned upon him that things 
might be different. Since she had consented to come again 
amidst the scenes of her happiness and misery, she must, 
be more reconciled, time must have worked some healing 
in her. And if, in days to come, she ceased to lament Sir 
George so bitterly, was there not a hope that she might 
come to care for him? Not to love him, perhaps, not to 
feel that deep, tender devotion that she had given her hus- 
band — and Alan sighed to himself — but a contented calm- 
ness in accepting the love and care he would heap upon 
her, a sort of restful faith and trust in him. He clinched 


346 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


his hands and groaned aloud. Was a man to give all the 
strength and passion of his heart, all the wells and deeps 
of tenderness in his nature for so poor, so cold a return? 
Oh! yes, yes, anyhow, so long as he only had her. Then 
he used to himself the fallacious argument that men al- 
ways employ in such cases — ‘ ‘ I would make her love me. 
I would be so patient, so tender, so untiring, she could not 
help but love me.'’ ^ 

Fifteen months had elapsed since the terrible day on 
which Olive had learned the news of her husband^s death. 
We have passed over that time, because the continual 
dwelling on a great sorrow is irksome and monotonous. 
AVhy go on writing about it? DonT we all know what it is 
to be very miserable, to have some trouble that is our last 
thought at night and comes new and fresh to us every 
morning? — a memory that will overshadow us at all times 
and seasons, that draws the scalding tears from our eyes, 
and the painful sighs from our hearts? Is there any one 
of you, my readers, so young, so happy, that the words 
sorrow and trouble convey no meaning to you? It might 
happen that here and there a chance reader, whose heart 
was heavy within him, would feel some comfort in reading 
how another soul had been wrenched and torn with agony; 
but the most of my whilom audience would turn away with 
a shrug and a yawn, saying, “ We know well enough what 
it is to be miserable in real life — the purpose of fiction is 
to amuse. And perhaps you think all this never hap- 
pened really — it only came into the brain of the writer, and 
then flew glibly from her pen. Or more likely still, you 
do not care two straws whether it is true or not. Time 
flies, and, moreover, time has healing in his wings, and 
therefore it is a moral impossibility for any sorrow to be as 
green and fresh at the expiration of fifteen months as on 
the day it first showed its black-avised face. Olive did not 
go out with a perpetual long face, and make every one 
around her miserable with her sighs and tears — she smiled 
now and then, and even laughed; she looked bright when 
old friends came to see her, and talked cheerfully enough. 
That did not prevent her from wearying in secret and cry- 
ing bitterly after her lost love, from looking blankly at the 
future, wherein seemed no hope or brightness,, and wishing 
sometimes that she might die. For an impulsive, affec- 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


347 


tionate nature that has loved and been loved passionately, 
what greater suffering than the thought that the one su- 
preme joy of her life is for them “ nevermore It had 
cost Olive something to accept Lady Vibart’s invitation to 
Ashworth Park; but having accepted it, she was resolved 
to overcome the painful feelings that the sight of familiar 
scenes would naturally excite. She did not deem it incum- 
bent on her to go abo. ^ with a doleful visage, that every 
one might be impressed with the fact that she was very mis- 
erable, and could not forget; on the contrary, she did all in 
her power to seem gay and cheerful, and kept her tears 
and sighs for her lonely hours. The party at Ashworth 
were agreeably surprised to find her cheerful and seemingly 
contented, ready to sing and play, or join in their occupa- 
tions and amusements. She had only stipulated for one 
thing, that she might not be called upon to see strangers. 

When Mr. Fairfax came to dinner, he found her sitting 
alone in the drawing-room. She rose to meet him, and 
came forward with a glad smile. 

“ At last!^^ she said, giving him her hand. “ I thought 
we were never going to meet again. 

This composed man of the world felt as nervous and 
confused as a school-boy at the sight of the woman he loved. 
He was looking with fond eyes at the slight, graceful figure 
in the heavy trailing silk — at the sad brown eyes, sad in 
spite of their smile — the rippling hair and the tender, sor- 
rowful mouth. He forgot to speak for a moment, and 
then, as she looked embarrassed at his long gaze, he turned 
away and could think of no more suggestive response than 
“ Did you?^^ 

“ Yes; because you promised to come and see me often, 
and I looked for you month after month, and then I con- 
cluded you had forgotten me.^^ 

Forgotten you?^^ 

Olive might have wondered a little at the fervor with 
which he uttered those words, but at this juncture Lord 
and Lady Vibart entered the room together. 

Alan was very happy all that evening, he sat next her at 
dinner, and afterward he watched her furtively, and list- 
ened with dreamy pleasure to the sweet, rich tones of her 
voice when she sung. 

“ You will come often while I am here, will you not?" 
she whispered to him as he wished her good-bye. 


348 


FKOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


‘‘ If you care to see me/^ he answered; and then as he 
drove homeward he sighed to think how utterly uncon- 
scious she was of his real feelings toward her. 

Lady Vibart had thou^t at first it might be painful to 
her father to see Lady Fabian, and had sounded him on 
the subject. But he had seemed quite pleased at the idea 
of her coming to Ashworth, and had been the warmest in 
welcoming her. After a time the two came to have a great 
liking for each other. There was something touching in 
the tenderness of their manner to one another, as though 
each had an intuition of the other^s pain, and would soothe 
it with a soft, caressing sympathy. 

They were constantly together; nothing pleased Mr. 
Anson so much as to sit beside Olive when she drove Lady 
Vibart^s ponies, or to listen with closed eyes as she sung. 
Grevil, who was getting very fond of his sister^’s guest, was 
rather provoked at the pertinacity with which Lady Fabian 
and his father kept together. 

“Jove! you know, Ethel, he remarked to his sister, 
“ the old governors had his day, and a very good one, too, 
by all accounts, and he might rest on his laurels now, and 
give us young fellows a chance. ” 

“ What! are you in love with Olive laughed his sister. 

“ Well, I don^t say exactly in love," responded Mars, bit- 
ing his long mustache; “ but I think she^s the dearest, 
most winning little creature I ever knew in my life. And, 
by Gad, Ethel, when I see her big brown eyes trying to 
smile, and looking so wistful and sad all the time, I feel as 
if I could cry myself. I’d give anything in the world to 
make her look bright and happy, as she used to do before 
that fiend of a woman brought all this trouble about Did 
I ever tell you I’d seen her?” 

“ No, dear. Where?” 

“ Last month at Homburg — painted up to her eyes, 
staring greedily at the green cloth, as though she’d got the 
playing fever, like most of the poor devils there. Not that 
I should pity her if she were starving in a garret. I saw 
her, too, in Paris last winter, most wonderfully bedizened; 
she was in a single brougham, with a very green young 
fellow, whose brother I know, making eyes at him and evi- 
dently creating great havoc in his young affections. I saw 
him afterward, and warned him off'; but I don’t suppose 
my advice was any use, for those young fellows are like 


PROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 349 

moths in a candle with an intriguing woman half a dozen 
years older than themselves.-’^ 

‘‘ I suppose you speak feelingly, after your grande pas- 
sion for Mrs. Harker,^^ said Ethel. 

“Yes, I bought my sad experience then. But, Ethel, 
couldn’t you give the governor a hint that he might give 
me a chance of being alone with Olive now and then?” 

“ My dear boy!” said Lady Yibart, leaning her hand 
affectionately on her brother’s shoulder. “ I should not 
advise you to have any serious thoughts about her; I do not 
believe she will ever care for any one again.” 

“Oh! that’s nonsense!” cried Grevil, pettishly. “ You 
don’t suppose a pretty creature like that, only twenty-one, 
is to go on moping all her life after a man who is dead, 
and who didn’t even appreciate her when he was alive? It’s 
preposterous, you know.” 

“ Well, I will give papa a hint, but it seems almost cruel 
to deprive him of her company, when he seems so proud ot 
her. It is so little he cares for now.” 

“ Oh, very well. Then don’t say anything about it,” 
concluded Grevil, walking off with an injured air. 

But when Ethel gently sounded her father on the sub- 
ject, he found that, so far from feeling hurt or injured, he 
became quite radiant. 

“ My dear,” he said, “ you surprise me; I am delighted, 
nothing could give me so much pleasure as to see her marry 
Gre-vil. I had no idea he had any feeling for her beyond 
friendship. I do not suppose she would think of any one 
just yet, but in time it is more than probable she would 
come to care for him; and no one, I am persuaded, would 
make a kinder and more affectionate husband than Grevil. ” 

And so all the family, in the kindness of their hearts, 
plotted a match between Captain Anson and Lady Fabian; 
and Olive was supremely unconscious — the thought of ever 
caring for any one but her dead George never entered her 
brain. 

“ Lady Vibart!” she commenced one morning, as they 
sat together in the breakfast-room, “ have you ever seen Sir 
— ever seen the man who has Gabriel’s Wood now?” 

“ Yes, dear,” said Ethel, looking up. 

“ What is he like? Do you know him personally?” 

“ Yes. He has dined here twice. What is he like? I 
can hardly tell — very different from poor George, of course. 


350 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


but I should think good-natured and kind-hearted. He 
always talks a great deal of you, and seems to be quite dis- 
tressed because he thinks he has deprived you of many 
things that ought to be yours, but for pure accident. 

“ Does he?^^ said Olive, her eyes moistening, and all the 
latent bitterness for her husband^s successor dying straight- 
way out of her generous heart. “ I think I should like to 
see him.^^ 

I am sure nothing would gratify him half so much,^^ 
responded Lady Vibart; “ he hinted to me how he should 
like to call upon you when you came down here, but I did 
not encourage the idea, not feeling certain that you would 
care to see him. Shall I ask him to dinner?^"’ 

“ Yes, do,^^ assented Olive. 

The same day Lady Vibart-wrote a kind little note to Sir 
Charles Fabian, asking him to come and dine without cere- 
mony the following evening. On first meeting Olive he 
felt very shy and awkward; but she came and sat beside 
him, and talked kindly to him, looking at him with such 
sweet smiles in her eyes that (to use a metaphor) he fell 
straightway at her feet and adored her. Toward the end 
of th^e evening, when all his shyness had vanished before 
her gracious kindness, he said : 

l^m such a rough fellow, I havenT been used to wom- 
en much, and sometimes I feel when I want to do and say 
anything for the best, I make a sad bungle of it; but I^m 
sure you^ll take what I say as it’s meant. And if you’ll 
come over to your old place, and take a lot of things out 
of it — things you value, you know, for the sake of old 
times — I should be so glad. I don’t feel as if I’d a bit of 
right to all those pretty things that were for you, and 
would have been yours now, but for a mistake. Of course 
it was a mistake, there being no will; but then, who’d have 
thought for a moment of anything happening to poor old 
George? — and I’m sure I wish to Heaven he was here in- 
stead of me. ” 

There might have been want of tact and refinement in 
the blunt, honest words, but Olive understood them, and 
the feeling that dictated them, well enough, and felt a 
warm kindness and regard spring up in her heart for the 
young man who uttered them. 

“ Thank you,” she said softly, but with a sigh she could 
not repress. ‘‘ Since God willed it so, I am pleased that 


FEOM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


351 


the good fortune has come to you, for I am sure you are 
worthy of it. And some day, before I leave, I think I 
should like to see the old place once again; and as you are 
so good and thoughtful to me, I shall take advantage of 
you, and carry away with me one or two little relics I used 
to value. 

She said this more out of delicacy and a desire to put 
him at his ease than because she cared for anything that 
was left at GabrieFs Wood. The man she had loved — 
whose memory she still loved — was irrevocably lost to her 
in this world; what value, then, had. fifty souvenirs or 
trinkets, if his place was vacant? 

“ Oh, thank you! thank you!^^ exclaimed the young 
man eagerly, as though she had done him some personal 
favor. If you will come at whatever time you like, and 
stay as long as you please, I will take care you are not dis- 
turbed.^^ 

She smiled one of her old sweet smiles upon him, and 
returned the pressure of his hand as he bade her good- 
night; and he went away desperately in love with her, and 
thinking of nothing but her lovely eyes. 


CHAPTER XLIII. 

THE OLD HOME. 

Within her heart was his image, 

Clothed in the beauty of love and youth as last she beheld him, 
Only more beautiful made by his aeath-like silence and absence. 

Longfellow. 

Oaptaih Ahsoh, who had all his life long prided him- 
self upon his unsusceptibility, was in love at last. Not a 
little in love — not caught by a pretty face or expediency, 
but really devoted to a woman heart and soul for the first 
time. There was no reason why his suit should not pros- 
per. He was young, good-looking, and rich, now that his 
father had abdicated Anson Court in his favor; and more 
than that, he was honorable and kind-hearted, and would 
have made any woman happy who was not more unrea- 
sonable than the fair sex in general. But to make his love 
known was a matter of some difficulty and delicacy. It 
could but be apparent to the most indifferent observer that 


352 


FROM OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


Lady Fabian had no desire to attract men toward her, nor 
any sentiment warmer than friendship for them. She 
talked, she smiled, she accepted their courtesies and atten- 
tions gladly, and took all their pretty speeches and profes- 
sions of interest in her as proof of a kind, well-bred sympa- 
thy for the peculiar sorrow and loneliness of her position. 

She had been three weeks at Ashworth Park, and Grevil 
would have given the world to break the ice and give her 
some hint of the real state of his feelings, but was afraid. 
Perhaps it might be too soon; and if he spoke to her so 
that there could be no misunderstanding what he meant, 
she might take fright and fly off like a robin in winter, that 
one hrs enticed to the window-ledge, which flies off when 
one stretches out the crumbs toward it. Captain Anson 
was not a man of reticent disposition, and when his mind 
was very much set on anything, it was a relief to him to 
talk about it. I don-’t mean, to bore every one he met 
with the story of his perplexities, but to find some friend 
he could rely on, and pour out the whole story of his* 
doubts and difficulties in that friendly ear. So he did not 
breathe his fears and aspirations to father, sister, or 
brother-in-law, but betook himself one evening to the 
Abbey, to dine with Mr. Fairfax. Alan and he had always 
been great friends; the feeling of the elder man for the 
younger was a kind of sympathetic regard; that of Grevil 
a strong liking, with a great respect. 

As the two sat smoking in Alan^s room after dinner. 
Captain Anson proceeded to unburden himself of his secret. 
Alan had conjectured, from his absent manner and frag- 
mentary conversation during the last half hour, that he 
had something to communicate, and when at last there 
came a long pause, he did not attempt to break it. 

‘‘ Fairfax, said Grevil, after two or three vigorous puffs 
at his manilla, “ don^’t you think thaPs a very sweet little 
woman ^ 

Alan gave a start. 

“ Who?'^ he asked, curtly. 

‘‘ Lady Fabian. 

He h^ always been used to speak of her as “ poor 
George^s wife,^^ but now, somehow or other, he could not 
bear to think of her as having been any one^s wife. 

“ Yes,"’’’ said Alan, laconically forcing out the word, and 
then relapsing into silence. 


PRO^r OLYMPUS TO HADES. 


385 


^‘’My darling!” he cried, stretching out his arms to her. 

In that supreme moment, what were the long, barren, 
loveless years to him, what all the vain longings and tort- 
ures, now that they were passed? Only shadows, to make 
the present brightness more keenly felt; a dearth, to make 
the treasure of his darling^s love more full and priceless, 
now that it was won at last. 


THE EHD. 


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WHAT IS SAPOLIO? 


It is a solid, 
handsome cake 
of scouring soap, 
which has no 

equal for all cleanijig purposes except the laundry. To use it is to value it. 

What will Sapolio do? Why, it will clean paint, make oil-cloths bright, aui 
give the floors, tables and shelves a new appearance. 

Ir. will take the grease off the dishes and off the pots and pans. 

You can scour the knives and forks with it, and make the tin things shin* 
brightly. The wash-basin, the bath-tub. even the greasy kitchen sink, will be 
as clean as a new pin if you use SAPOLIO. One cake will prove all 
say. Be a clever little housekeeper and try it. 

BEWARE OF IMITATIONS. 


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190 Romance of a Black Veil. By 

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191 Harry Lorrequer. By Charles 

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245 Miss Tommy, and In a House- 

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261 A Fair Maid. By F. W. Robinson 20 

262 The Count of Monte-Cristo. 

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265 Judith Shakespeare: Her Love 

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267 Laurel Vane; or. The Girls’ 

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268 Lady Gay’s Pride; or. The 

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289 John Bull’s Neighbor in Her 

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291 Love’s Warfare. By the author 

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292 A Golden Heart, By the author 

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293 The Shadow of a Sin, By the 

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294 Hilda. By the author of “ Dora 

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300 A Gilded Sin, and A Bridge of 

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302 The Blatchford Bequest. By 

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303 Ingledew House, and More Bit- 

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304 In Cupid’s Net. By the author 

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305 A Dead Heart, and Lady Gwen- 

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306 A Golden Dawn, and Love for a 

Day. By the author of “ Dora 
Thorne ” 10 

307 Two Kisses, and Like No Other 

Love. By the author of “ Dora 
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308 Beyond Pardon 20 

309 The Pathfinder. By J. Feni- 

more Cooper 20 

310 The Prairie. By J. Fenimore 

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311 Two Years Before the Mast. By 

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312 A Week inKillarney. By “The 

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313 The Lover’s Creed. By Mrs. 

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314 Peril. By Jessie Fothergill ^ 

315 The Mistletoe Bough. Edited 

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320 A Bit of Human Nature. By 

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321 The Prodigals : And Their In- 

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323 A Willful Maid... 20 

324 In Luck at Last. By Walter 

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325 The Portent. By George Mac- 

donald 10 

326 Phantastes. A Faerie Romance 

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327 Raymond’s Atonement. (From 

the German of E. Werner.) 

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352 At Any Cost. By Edward Gar- 

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353 The Black Dwarf, and A Leg- 

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354 The Lottery of Life. A Story 

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355 That Terrible Man. By W. E. 

Norris. The Princess Dago- 
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356 A Good Hater. By Frederick 

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357 John. A Love Story. By Mrs. 

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358 Within the Clasp. By J. Ber- 

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359 The Water- Witch. By J. Feni- 

more Cooper 20 

360 Ropes of Sand. By R. E. Fran- 

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362 The Bride of LammeriKoojv 

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364 Castle Dangerous. By Sir Wal- 

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365 George Christy; or, The Fort- 

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366 The Mysterious Hunter; or. 

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367 Tie and Trick. By Hawley Smart 20 

368 The Southern Star; or. The Dia- 

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372 Phyllis’ Probation. By the au- 

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373 Wing-and-Wing. J. Fenimore 

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375 A Ride to Khiva. By Capt. Fred 

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381 Tl>e Red Cardinal. By Frances 

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383 Introduced to Society. Bj’ Ham- 

ilton Ai'dd 10 

384 On Horseback Through Asia 

Minor. Capt. Fred Burnaby. 20 

385 The Headsman; or, The Abbaye 

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386 Led Astray ; or, ‘‘La Petite Comt- 

esse.” By Octave F'euillet... 10 

387 The Secret of the Cliffs. By 

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388 Addie’s Husband; or. Through 

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389 Ichabod. By Bertha Thomas... 10 

390 Mildred Trevanion. By ” The 


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391 The Heart of Mid-Lothian. By 

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392 Peveril of the Peak. By Sir Wal- 

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396 Robert Ord’s Atonement. By 

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397 Lionel Lincoln ; or, The Leaguer 

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398 Matt: A Tale of a Caravan. 

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414 Miles Wallingford, (Sequel to 

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415 The Ways of the Hour. By J. 

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416 Jack Tier ; or. The Florida Reef. 

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679 Where Two Ways Meet. By 

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680 Fast and Loose. By Arthur 

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send 25 cents for a sample copy. Ad- 
dress George Munro, Publisher, New 
York.— Gospei Trumpet, Altoona, Pa. 

The Christmas number of The New 
York Fashion Bazar is an exceedingly 
attractive publication, and is accom- 
panied by a really beautiful chromo 
supplement, “ Merry Little Mis- 
chief.” The illustrations and literary 
matter of this magazine are both of 
a high order of excellence. Terms $3.00 

P er year. George Munro, New York, 
ublisher. — Connecticut Farmer. 


The New York Fashion Bazar. The 
current number of this handsome 
magazuie for the ladies is a most at- 
tractive issue, opening with a double 
page of richly colored plates, showing 
the latest styles in winter garments; 
then follow over seventy pages crowd- 
ed with patterns and embroideries, of 
bonnets, dresses, outer garments and 
suits, with full descriptions and a fund 
of information as to the material and 
manufacture; there are several chap- 
ters of each serial,several papers on the 
art of housekeeping and a thousand 
useful suggestions which the ladies 
will appreciate. The cover presents 
seven colored suits for children, and 
altogether this is a specially attractive 
number. The pages are large, about 
half the size of illustrated weekly 
papers, so that the fashions can be 
shown to good advantage. George 
Munro, Publisher, New York. — Daily 
American, Lawrence, Mass. 

The New York Fashion Bazar.— 
The current number of this fashion 
magazine has been received. It is a 
very attractive issue. The illustrations 
of the various stj’les of wearing ap- 
parel in the different grades of goods 
are very numerous. The fashion plate 
in colors contains seven figures. Pub- 
lished by George Munro, New York, at 
25 cents a number, or $3.00 a j’ear. — 
The Catholic Church. Montreal. 

The Christmas number of The New 
York Fashion Bazar, George Munro, 
publisher. New York, is a superb 
issue. A new story, “ Margery Daw,” 
promises to be most fascinating, while 
the continued and complete stories are 
of intense int^est. 1 he fashion plates 
are very numerous and artistic, and 
are fully described. A beautiful 
chromo, “ Merry Little Mischief,” is 
given as a supplement with this num- 
ber. — Toronto (Ont.) Mail. 


The New York Fashion Bazar is for sale by all newsdealers, price 25 cents 


per copy. Subscription price $3.00 per year. Address 


GEORGE MUNRO* Munro’s Fublisliing House, 


P. O. Box 3751. 


17 to 27 Vandewater Street, N. Y. 


THE CELEBRATED 

SOBMER 

GEAND, SQUAEE AND IJPEIGHT PIANOS. 


FIRST PRIZE 

DIPLOMA. 

Centennial Exhibi- 
tion, 1876; Montreal, 
1881 and 1888. 

The enviable po- 
sition Sohmer & 
Co. hold among 
American Piano 
Manufacturers is 
solely due to the 
merits of their in- 
struments. 



They are used;, 
in Conservato- 
ries, Schools and 
Seminaries, on ac- 
count ol their su- 
perior tone and 
unequaled dura- 
bility. 

The SOHMER 
Piano is a special 
favorite with the 
leading musicians 
and critics. 


ARE AT PRESENT THE MOST POPUIiAR 

AND PREFERRED BY THE LEADING ARTISTS. 

SOHMER & CO., Manufacturers, No. 149 to 155 E. 14th Street, N. Y. 


Munro’s Publications. 

The Seaside Library— Pocket Edition. 

MISS M. £. BRAItAON’S WORKS. 


85 Lady Audley’s Se- 
cret 20 

56 rhantom Fortune . . 20 

74 Aurora Floyd 20 

110 Under the Red Flag 10 
158 The Golden Calf. ... 20 

204 Vixen 20 

211 The Octoroon 10 

234 Barbara; or, Splen. 

did .Ulsery 20 

263 An IshinaelUe 20 

815 The Mistletoe 
Bough. Edited by 
init>8 Braddon.... 20 
484 Wy Hard’s Weird.. 20 
478 Biavola; or, No* 
body’s Daughter. 

Part I 20 

478 Diavoln; or. No. 
hmiv’s Daughter. 

Part II 20 

480 Married in Haste. 
Edited by Hiss M. 

E. Braddon 20 

487 Put to the Test. 

Edited by Hiss M. 

£. Braddon 20 

488 Joshua Haggard’s 

Daughter 20 

489 Rupert Godwin. ... 20 

495 Mount Royal 20 

496 Oiilv a Woman. 

Edited by Hiss M. 

E. Braddon 20 


497 The Lady’s Mile... 20 

498 Only a Clod 20 

499 The Cloven Foot... 20 

611 A Strange World. . 20 
615 Sir Jasper’s Tenant 20 
524 Strangers and Pil- 
grims 20 

529 The Doctor’s Wife. 20 
542 Fenton’s Quest.... 20 
644 Cnt by the County; 

or, Grace Darfiel. 10 
548 The Fatal Marriage, 
and Tlie Shadow 
In the Corner. ... 10 
649 Dudley Carleoii,. and 
George Canllield’s 
Journey 10 

552 Hostages toFortnne 20 

553 Birds of Prey 20 

554 Charlotte’s Inher- 

itance. (Sequel to 
“Birds of Prev.”) 20 
557 To the Bitter End, 20 
5.59 Taken at the Flood 20 

560 AspIHtdel 20 

.561 Just as I am; or, A 

Living Lie 20 

567 Dead Men’s Shoes.. 20 
5.0 John .Harriiiiiont’s 

Legacy 20 

618 The Mistletoe 
Bough. Christ- 
mas, 1885 20 




Any of the above works will be sent by mall, postpaid, 
on receipt of the price. Address 

GEORGE MUNRO, Mnnro’s Publishing House, 

P. O. Box 3751. 17 to 27 Vandewnter St., N. Y. 


NEW 




TABERNACLE SERMONS. 

♦ 

Preached in the Brooklyn Tabernacle. 
By Rev. T. Be Witt Talina^e, B.l). 


CONTENTS: 


Brawn and Muscle. 
The Pleiades and Orion 
The Queen’s Visit. 
Vicarious SuITering. 
Posthumous Opportu- 
nity. 

The Lord’s Razor. 
Windows Toward Je- 
rusalem. 

Stormed and Taken. 
All the World Akin. 

A Momentous Quest. 
The Great Assize. 

The Road to the City. 
The Ransomless. 

The Three Groups. 


The Insignificant. 

The Three Rings. 

How He Came to Say 
It. 

Castle Jesus. 

Stripping the Slain. 
Sold Out. 

Summer Temptations. 
The Banished Queen. 
The Day We Live In. 
Capital and I.abor. 
Tobacco and Opium. 
Despotism of the 
Needle. 

Why are Satan and Sin' 
Permitted? 


The book will be forwarded, postage pre-j 
paid, on receipt of price, $L(X). Address i| 

GEORGE MUNRO, 

Miinro’s Publishing House, 
P.O.Box 3751. 17 to 27 Vandewater St., N.Y. 











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